#and wave away all the need for more explanation again

[theoggk]

Part Three

TW: ED, angst, self hate, arguments, anxiety, idk prolly more. see masterlist for explanation and my profile for resources.

the music thrums through your cheap wired earbuds as you lie on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. the sound is nothing but static in your ears, a thin veil between you and the crushing weight in your chest. your heartbeat is too loud, too fast, pressing against your ribs, shallow breaths barely making it past your throat.

you’ve turned your phone on and back off at least thirteen times in the last four minutes, but nothing holds your attention. nothing helps.

kie, sarah, and cleo responded to your tweet, but the thought of seeing them feels impossible. you would have to explain. they would ask questions, they would try to help, and they wouldn’t understand. you can’t do it. you can’t.

john b knocked on your door about an hour ago. he asked if you were okay. you lied. he offered to watch a movie, but you said no. you heard the hesitation in his silence, the way he lingered just a little too long, like he didn’t think you should be alone. but your short, clipped answers drove him away.

and now you’re alone again. worse.

it feels like you’re underwater, floating slightly while the world above you stays still. even the music begins to stretch and distort, fading into something distant, something untouchable. it sounds like it’s playing from the end of a long tunnel, hollow and echoing back to you.

at some point, your body stops responding.

at some point, your mind slips.

you lay there, floating in limbo, not sleeping but not thinking, not letting yourself think. your limbs feel like lead, heavy and unmovable. the room is dim, the music stops playing after you don’t know how long. 

then the door opens.

john b.

his voice is careful, like he’s afraid to startle you. “hey do you wanna get up? it’s like 1:30.”

1:30?

1:30.

you blink. the time repeats itself in your head, but it doesn’t feel real. 1:30. it was nighttime. you were just lying down. you were just—

“y/n,” john b says again, stepping closer, concern etched into every line of his face. “you need to get up. you’ve been laying here since this time yesterday and you’re scaring me.”

scared? why would he be scared? you’re fine. you got into a little fight with jj, and you just need to lay here for a bit. that’s all.

it’s no cause for concern.

but when you try to speak, nothing comes out.

your tongue won’t move. your body won’t move.

your brain understands, but your limbs won’t follow.

he crouches down next to you. “you gotta breathe yn. i know you’ve got a lot going on right now, but laying here and panicking isn’t gonna help. just breathe in and out, okay?” you hadn’t realized you were hyperventilating.

he takes the earbuds out of your ears and unplugs them from your phone, which he then attaches to a charger, waiting patiently as you try to slow your breathing.

when you’ve calmed down enough, he nods, as if satisfied, and crosses the room, grabbing something off of the floor. it’s jj’s fast arch shirt, the one you borrowed last week. he tosses it at you.

“put this on. it’s a little chilly.”

you look at him quizzically.

“we’re going to the beach,” he responds to your unasked question. “change of scenery.”

your entire body is shaking uncontrollably, but you somehow manage to sit up and pull the shirt over your head. your heart keeps erratically pumping against your chest as you follow him mindlessly down the hall. he’s saying something, but you’re not really listening. the drive is quiet. the kind that doesn’t ask for words, doesn’t demand explanations. the kind where silence is the only thing that makes sense.

the twinkie rattles down the uneven road, the radio playing something soft, something familiar, but the sound barely reaches you. it blends into the hum of the tires against gravel, into the distant crash of waves growing louder as you get closer. you lean your head against the window, the cold glass pressing against your skin. you watch the trees blur past, the sky stretched out in soft gray tones, like it hasn’t decided whether to be morning or something else entirely.

john b hasn’t said much since you left the chateau. he glances at you every now and then, but he doesn’t press. he just drives, fingers drumming absently against the steering wheel. you think about asking if jj is okay, if john b talked to him, if he even cares that you fought or regrets leaving. but the words stay lodged in your throat, thick and immovable. so you don’t ask. instead, you focus on breathing, on keeping your hands from shaking as you pull the sleeves of jj’s shirt over your fingers. when john b finally pulls up near the dunes, he turns off the engine but doesn’t move to get out right away. he exhales, tilts his head back against the seat, and finally looks at you.

“c’mon,” he says, not unkindly. “let’s go.”

you follow him out of the van, your feet hitting the cool sand, the wind biting at your exposed skin. the ocean stretches out ahead of you, dark and endless, waves rolling in steady and unbothered. you should feel something. relief, maybe. peace. but all you feel is tired. john b doesn’t walk far. just enough for the twinkie to be behind you, for the weight of the chateau to feel farther away. he sits down, pulling his knees up and digging his fingers into the sand. you stand there for a second, unsure. the wind tugs at jj’s shirt, the sleeves slipping past your hands.then, finally, you sit too.

the sand is cold beneath your fingers, damp from the night. you don’t speak. neither does he. you just watch the waves, coming and going, over and over. it lulls you, capturing your attention, distracting you from your mind.

“he’s not mad… jj that is,” john b says after a few minutes of silence. “really fuckin hurt but not mad.”

you meet his eyes briefly but don’t respond. you bring your knees to your chest and rest your chin against them, arms wrapped tightly around your shins. continuing to watch as the waves rise and fall again and again, your thoughts drift away and it feels as if your soul itself is being rinsed by the crashing waves. the ocean stretches endlessly ahead. you can hear the waves, the way they roll in and crash against the shore, like they’re just waiting for something or maybe you are.

john b doesn’t say anything for a while after that. he just sits beside you, his fingers buried in the sand, letting the silence settle between you. the sound of the waves is steady, but inside you, it’s anything but.

after a while, he exhales, slow and measured. “you don’t have to do this to yourself. you act like you don’t have a choice, but you do.”

your fingers curl tighter around your shins. “this what?”

john b doesn’t look at you when he answers. “this, y/n. the starving, the throwing up, pretending like it’s not happening, fighting with anyone who wants to help you.” he says, picking up a fistful of sand and letting the grains fall through his fingers.

your breath catches, but you keep your gaze locked on the water, refusing to look at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “yeah, you do.”

your stomach twists, and you pull jj’s sleeves farther over your hands, as if you can disappear inside them. the waves crash again, pulling the sound away, like they’re trying to take the weight with them. “that’s not what this is.”

it comes out too quickly, too automatic, like a reflex.

john b sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yn.” his voice is softer now, but it still holds that unshakable john b certainty. “i let your other bullshit go because i wanted to be wrong, i wanted it to not be that. but i heard you purging, yn—i know we talked about it, and i know you said that you were sick, but you’re lying. and everyone knows that you’re lying.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pang of humiliation cutting through you. “it’s not like that.”

john b lets out a breath, quiet but knowing. “then what’s it like?”

you swallow hard, staring at the ocean, watching the tide roll in, the way it pulls itself back before crashing forward again. you don’t answer. the silence stretches between you, thick and heavy. and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. “am i losing him?”

john b doesn’t answer right away. he looks out at the ocean, like he’s considering it, like the answer isn’t as simple as you want it to be.

finally, he says, “i think jj’s just trying to figure out how much of you he still has.”

the words hit deep, settling into your chest like something too heavy to hold. jj isn’t just mad. he’s giving up. he doesn’t know if you’re worth fighting for anymore. you swallow hard, your throat tight. you don’t know what to do with the words, how to make them make sense.

“i mean- listen it’s just…. we thought we got you back. we thought you were good. but the fact that you aren’t, like…. i don’t yn that hurts and it’s not because you’re not allowed to be struggling, it’s because you didn’t tell us.” john b says. 

your knees pull tighter to your chest, your chin resting on them as you watch the waves crash, again and again. the silence lingers, the ocean filling the space between you. you don’t say anything else. the waves keep rolling in, steady and unbothered, like nothing has changed. but inside you, everything feels wrong—too heavy, too sharp, pressing in from all sides. you don’t know how long you sit there, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs, your nails digging into your skin.

and then, it all hits at once.

your chest tightens, your throat closes up, and before you can stop it, a sob tears through you. you drop your forehead to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut, but the tears come anyway—hot and silent at first, then harder, shaking your whole body. john b doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t try to make it better, doesn’t tell you to stop. he just shifts beside you, then wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in. it’s not forceful. he’s not trying to fix you. he just holds you there, steady, as you fall apart. you press your face into his sleeve, your whole body trembling. the ocean keeps moving. the wind keeps blowing. and john b just stays.

you dont know how long it’s been when john b exhales audibly and out of nowhere says, “you remember the time you got that jellyfish sting?”

you sniff and sit up, caught off guard. “i- what?”

he smirks slightly. “yeah. we were, like, ten? maybe eleven? it was just the three of us out here, you know like just swimming and i don’t really remember how it went down but you got stung.”

the memory flickers back as you plant your hands in the sand, the crash of the waves, burning sensation of your leg amplified by the sting of the saltwater, the panicked sound of jj’s voice.

“but at any rate, JJ? he was already planning your funeral,” john b continues, shaking his head. “like, full-on sobbing, saying how he was gonna have to tell Dad you died on his watch. meanwhile, your leg was red but you barely even cried, totally fine.”

you let out a breath—almost a laugh and wipe at some of your tears.. “he made me sit on the beach for an hour after that. wouldn’t let me back in the water.”

john b grins. “dude, he made all of us get out. said if you weren’t allowed to swim, no one was.”

”he’s always been like that, you know,” john b says after a beat. “pretends he’s not scared of anything, but when it comes to you? he’s been losing his shit over you since we were kids.”

you swallow hard, the warmth of the memory clashing with the weight in your chest.

“yeah well we aren’t ten anymore and losing it doesn’t always help.” you say, trying to keep the bitter edge out of your voice. 

“then tell him what will help.” john b’s response is level but pointed “but lying? and pretending things are good when they’re really just getting worse? that’s just gonna push him away. he’s loyal to a fault y/n, you know that. but if you keep making him feel unwanted, he’s gonna stop trying.” 

your heart sinks to your stomach and you fight back another wave of tears. 

“john b i’m not the kind of person who wants to talk everything to death, you know?” you say hollowly. “i can’t…. i don’t want to dissect all the worst parts of me with him. i’m fine, and all i need is for you guys to believe me.”

he sighs and doesn’t respond for a long moment. “listen-” he starts carefully but you cut him off.

“no john b come on this is the problem. i get that i was sick before and i know that was hard on everyone but why does that mean your can never trust me again? like you realize that’s bullshit right?” your voice is rising, sounding more angry when really it’s anxiety growing in your chest. 

“no the bullshit is you acting like we’ve personally ruined your life by caring about you” his voice rises ever so slightly for the first time and your stomach twists. “jj’s been begging for scraps of you for weeks and you have given absolutely zero effort to let him in. but he’s still showing up. isn’t that enough? doesn’t that make him worth a least a little bit of honesty? i get that it’s hard for you to talk about but you can’t even admit that there’s something going on with you! so you tell me who’s really not trusting who here?” his words cut to your core and more tears begin to spill down your cheeks. his face softens and he tilts his head at you. “i just don’t understand what you’re doing y/n. and i can’t just sit by and watch while you drown my sister and my best friend. you can’t just keep ignoring everyone’s help, because i don’t know how long they’ll put up with it.”

the tears are pouring now and you don’t know what to say. you can feel him watching you carefully but you can’t look at him, eyes locked on the waves instead. he exhales again, quieter this time, like something’s drained out of him. 

“look,” he says, voice low, “i can’t sit here and fight you into saving yourself.”

your chest tightens again.

“but i’m telling you this as someone who loves you, okay? you need to talk to jj.”

you don’t answer.

john b turns to face you fully now. “not tomorrow. not when you feel like it. today. before he gives up for good.” 

your breath hitches but you still don’t reply. he nods as if you agreed.

“so i’m gonna go wait in the twinkie. you take as much times as you need and when you’re ready we’ll go back home and you can text JJ to come over and have a real conversation, no bullshit.” he starts to walk away then pauses. “and um, just for the record i’m sorry for what i said about the rafe thing. i know you weren’t trying to hurt JJ, but he is bad news yn. you know that.” that’s the last thing he says. you can hear the sand dragging under his feet as walks away.

you sit there for a long time, breathing in the salt air, your brother’s words echoing over and over in your head like the waves hitting the shore—relentless, steady, impossible to ignore. the worst part is that he didn’t yell. he didn’t tear you apart or try to shame you into fixing yourself. he just said the truth and now it’s sitting in your chest like a stone.

you stare at the ocean, trying to convince yourself it’s not that deep. that he’s just overreacting. that jj is too. you’re not dying. you’re not doing drugs. you’re not crashing cars or stealing money or getting arrested. you’re still going to school. you’re still brushing your teeth. you’re still technically eating. it’s not like you’re that far gone.

but your hands are still trembling and you’re wearing a shirt that isn’t yours just to feel something that might make you stay.

and maybe you’ve been lying to everyone for so long that the only person who still halfway believes you is yourself.

maybe even that’s slipping.

eventually, you stand. your legs are shaky but they work. you make your way back to the van, each step slow, like you’re walking back into something you can’t undo. john b doesn’t say anything when you climb into the passenger seat. he just glances at you, then turns the keys in the ignition.

for a moment, there’s only the quiet hum of the engine.

“so you’re gonna text him?” he asks, voice casual, too casual. he keeps his eyes on the road as he starts backing out of the spot.

you stare out the window. “my phone’s at the house.”

“y/n—” he starts.

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t,” you cut in, sharper than you mean to. “i just genuinely can’t. at the moment.”

there’s a pause. then a small shake of his head as he glances over at you again.

“no, i was gonna say… he’s kind of already there.”

your head turns slowly. “what?”

“he showed up while we were gone…. well i like told him to.” john b says, careful, like he’s trying not to spook you. “he’s waiting.”

you blink at him. the information lands in your stomach like a weight. your breath hitches just slightly.

“…you’re an asshole,” you say, not even annoyed, just tired.

he smiles sheepishly. “yeah. maybe.”

there’s another long pause. the road winds in front of you, endless and quiet.

“but i’m worried about you, y/n,” he adds softly, not looking at you now. “i’m not gonna apologize for being worried.”

you don’t answer.

you don’t need to.

you just sit there, the sleeves of jj’s shirt pulled over your hands, your heart climbing into your throat as the van rolls closer and closer to home

taglist:

@citruspoltergeist @kieeslove @drewstarkeyswife-7 @agnxstic @nonbeliever1

[waitmyturtles]

Emotionally, 23.5 (episode 10) is like a cheaply made puzzle, where like, the edges are cut roughly, so like, you THINK that you have the right pieces next to each other, but when you smush them in, and they don't fit QUITE smoothly enough, you're like, oh maybe there's another piece, but like, you CAN'T find another piece that works, because like, the piece you have in your hand IS the piece that is the right one for the picture you're making, or like, you THINK it is, so like, you keep smushing the pieces together, and you THINK the puzzle makes sense, but you kinda feel like you have the wrong piece, or worse, you're MISSING A BETTER PIECE, because everything's NOT QUITE JIVING.

I hope this post made as much sense as the emotional journey we attempted to take with the script in this last episode. What the FUCK is this script doing to Ongsa? A little more context, some smoother edges, would be really helpful here!

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, size kink, forced orgasm.

“Ghost.” 

He looks over the rim of his glasses before sliding them off completely and tossing them onto the stack of papers spread out in front of him. "Gaz." 

“You out of here soon?” Kyle’s in the doorway with his arms crossed, slight smirk twisting his lips. 

“Tryin’ to be.” The administrative side of this job will be the death of him one day, leaving him buried beneath mountains of paperwork. “Guys get their gear done?” He nods. “Shoot test?” 

“All complete. Evals loaded in the portal.” He’s frighteningly efficient, something Simon’s come to rely on.

Kyle has no idea there’s a recommendation for promotion in this stack of nonsense on his desk. 

He’s going to miss him when he makes captain. 

“Good work as always then.” His phone buzzes. Three times. 

>I think I should be another hour, or maybe less. 

>But of course don’t feel like you have to rush over here, I’m fine to wait. I don’t mind. I know I gave you a time estimate this morning so of course I don’t expect you to work around me. 

>I just meant to say I’m ready whenever. That’s all. But no rush, again. 

Kyle sighs with a chuckle. "That your girl?" Simon waves him away.

“Have a good weekend, Lieutenant.” 

“You too, Captain.” 

“Hi.” Something in him settles at the sight of you. Tired, but excited. Half ready for bed, half ready for him, you’re standing in the shop next to one of the little tables, your work bag and jacket slung on a chair. 

“Hi sweetheart.” You’ve shed some layers in the last week, become a little less inhibited with him, a little more confident, slowly adjusting, and he’s proud of you. 

You’ve been good. 

“How was your day?” 

“Oh, fine. I’m tired.” Your eyes go wide with panic. “Not too tired though, not like t-tired I want to go home. Like, to mine uh, I still-” It doesn’t take much to knock you off balance, still exploring this new world, the one he’s building for you, his sweet fresh fawn. 

“It’s alright.” He reaches, cupping your cheek. Physical contact seems to soothe you. He thinks it’s because there’s a live, tangible tether connecting you to the now, to him, instead of whatever is going on in your head. “You were up really early sweetheart, it’s understandable you’re tired.” You were awake before him this morning. Sent your usual wake up text well before the sun rose with a hurried explanation about a last minute catering order and a panicking bride. 

I said I’d do it. I felt bad. 

It wouldn’t be so rough if you hadn’t been at work late the night before for something else. 

It’s clearly wiped you out, and he’ll need to shift gears. “Are you ready to go?” You take a half step back and hold up your pointer finger, inclining your head towards to the back of the bakery. 

“Uh, wait. I forgot something, one sec.” 

You return with a big white box cradled in your hands. 

“What’s in there?” 

“Oh I made you something. Us. I made us something. For after dinner, if you want. Obviously if you don’t want it that’s fine you don’t have to eat it, it might not even be your thing, which is fine, I just-” He steps into your space and you trail off, eyes going to his without prompting. He blocks the world out, closes in, palms the back of your neck.  

“It’s me baby. Just you and me, and there's nothing to worry about. You’ll never make a single thing I won’t like, right?” 

“R-right. I know that.” You’re bobbing in a continuous nod, looking away to study something on his shirt. 

“What is it?” 

“Pie. Boston cream pie.” Cream pie. Blood flows to his cock and he momentarily gets lost in his own head. 

“Tell me.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, hands following him desperately as he rears back and folds your knees to your chest, staring at where his cock is moving in and out of your body, everything about him too big, nearly too big to fit inside you. “Where do you want daddy to put his cum?” 

“I-inside. I want your cum inside me daddy, pl- oh- please.” His balls tighten as he grinds his hips, licking an errant tear running down your face. His girl. His. In his arms, his bed, crying on his cock. 

“Only good little girls get daddy’s cum, baby. Have you been good?” 

“I’ve been good, I’ve b-been so- ah- f-fuck-” The wand buzzes to life, hovering just over your clit as you shake your head frantically. “No nonono, I can’t anymore, I c-can’t.” 

“Yes you can,” he thrusts deep and you gasp. You’ve already come four times, but he wants more, needs more, wants to wring every single one he can get out of you before he empties his balls inside your pussy. 

When he finally slides it across your swollen little nub, you howl. 

“Oh- no-” you whine, nails digging into his forearms, muscles already bearing down on him, breaths turning into short rasps.  

“I know. Breathe baby,” he glides it back and forth, kisses your cheek, your mouth. “Breathe through it- that’s my girl. You can take it.” You’re oversensitive, battling a war between pleasure and pain, and your legs instinctively try to close, prevent the impending explosion you know is coming. “Keep your knees open.” He gives the head of the wand firmer pressure, and you cry, shaking your head no again. 

“It’s too- too much.” Your feet are on his sides, partially bent in half, and he forces one of your thighs wide, giving him a better view of your puffy, tortured clit. 

“Knees open baby girl. One more and daddy will fill you up nice and deep.” You nod, already so close he can feel it, scorching heat pulsing around him, legs trembling as they go lax. “There you go…” he pets your hip, mouth at your ear, soothing and comforting as it rips through you. It pushes him over the edge and he tosses the wand, pins you. Traps you beneath him. All his. 

“Oh my god,” you slur, still riding the wave of your own orgasm, eyes rolling back in your head. It pushes him over the edge.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, so proud of you, takin’ my cum- fuck-” his own voice is choked off as he floods you, ruts like an animal, instinctively forcing as much of his seed into your belly as he can. 

When it’s over, he drinks in the sight of the milky white cream dripping out of your hole before scooping it up with two fingers and pushing it back inside. You’re limp the whole time, and when he slips the plug in, you barely notice. You’ll be pumped full of him until later, and he’ll take it out to give you more. 

“Daddy?” You mumble, half asleep, and he brushes his lips across yours, tucking you into his chest. 

“Right here, baby. I’m right here.” 

“- it’s not really. I mean, the best part about it is the cream, you know? That’s what makes the cake but the layers have to be moist on their own. You can’t just rely on the…” He swallows your words, licks them out of your mouth, cups your face and presses his thumb into your bottom lip afterwards, edging it across your top teeth. “Oh.” You blink, blindsided, and he runs a hand down the back of your head, strokes the back of your neck. 

“Ready then?” You lean into him, a little dazed, off kilter. 

“Y-yeah.” 

 Your toes scrunch at the threshold of the living room, afraid to cross until he flattens his palm on the small of your back.

“Go get comfortable sweetheart.” Battling nerves with a need for sleep, you were unsettled at dinner, sitting at the table, swallowing over and over again long after your food was chewed. There’s something more at play, something larger weighing on you. You left your plate half empty, fork resting at three oclock, twirl of spaghetti and red sauce waiting, and he should have told you to finish, or take one more bite. 

But it's a slow game right now. A careful one. 

“Alright.” You scamper towards the couch, settling into the far side, toes tucked between the cushions. It’s a balancing act, not too much, too too little, and when he sits down next to you with a giant slice of the cake on a plate, you watching him anxiously. Curiously. 

He forks a piece free, and holds it in front of your mouth. “Open.” You do. Immediately. You trust him to feed you, and it calls to the thirst thrumming in his blood, the power of control. “Good girl.” He waits, patiently, ignores the flex of your throat, the butterfly flutter of your lashes. There’s plenty of time for it all. There will be a lifetime (if he’s alive to live it) with you. "What do you say?" 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you…” He leads, and you follow. His good fucking girl. 

“Daddy,” your whisper is shy, cautious and brave at the same time. “Thank you daddy.” A kiss finds its place on the corner of your mouth, then the full furl of your lips, and you burn alive, flames flickering in your eyes. He takes a bite himself and groans 

“Christ baby.” 

“Do you like it?” When he nods, you grin. 

“Not everyone likes them because they expect a cream pie and that’s not what they get, it’s a cake with vanilla cream between the layers, see?” You point to the thick custard. “It’s not like coconut cream pie, or a banana cream pie, you know?” Cream pie. If you say cream pie one more time. 

“It’s really good sweetheart. Too good.” He helps himself to another bite, offers you one, and then has a third before finally setting the plate down. Silence hovers in the air and he lets it languish, giving you time, all the space you need to give him the worry, the doubt, the weight that's holding you back. 

“Simon.” He smothers his surprise. It’s not the first time you’ve used his name, but your voice wavers on it. Wide doe eyes stare back at him, and then they find the floor. That won’t do. “I don’t know what to do with…”

“With what sweetheart?”

“You. This. U-us? If that’s… if that’s what-” 

“That’s what it is.” He closes what little gap there was between the two of you and pulls your knotted together fingers free, dwarfing your hand with his. “That’s what this is, baby.” The hope, the happiness, blooms across your cheeks and lasts for all of two seconds before worry overtakes it, and you begin tracing the lines in his palm, head down, focusing on the task, slightly shaking. Giving you a chance to walk away would be the right thing to do. 

But he won’t. 

He can’t. 

He’d never give you up now. 

“I’m not… I’ve never… done something like this, I don’t know how.” 

“That’s okay sweet girl, you don’t have to.” The nervous tracing turns to a light scratch. He lets it continue for a beat before folding your hand between his, stopping the movement. 

“I don’t?” 

“No. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you, make sure you have everything you need. I’m going to keep you happy and healthy and safe, and you don’t need to worry.” A shaky exhale rattles free from your chest, weight of a thousand questions evaporating into thin air, decisions and deliberations rapidly falling away as you settle into a new reality, a new life. One where you’re cared for, supported, and loved. “All you need to do is listen, okay?” 

“Okay daddy.” 

[lotties-ashwagandha]

IT’S NOT A CULT!

lottie matthews x fem!reader

the rest of the yellowjackets are surprised to find you at lottie’s wellness center, but they’re even more surprised when they find out who you married. requested by @ludasgf , i hope this is okay :)

“Oh, fun,” Natalie looks you over, adjusting the sleeves of her new heliotrope sweater. “Did Lottie kidnap you, too?”

You shake your head, confused.

Lottie swoops in before you can respond, taking your hand and stepping between you and Natalie. “It’s a joke. She’s joking. You know how she is.”

“I’m not joking,” Natalie says bitterly.

Lottie turns to you, waving her away. “Don’t listen to her. She’s probably still high.”

You decide not to ask any questions.

You glance over at Lottie, trying to gauge her reaction to the rest of the team, the rest of them that are left. It’s been years since you last saw any of them, excluding Natalie, who has been staying at the wellness center for a few weeks now.

Lottie’s expression gives away nothing. She walks with Shauna and Misty a few feet away, an uncomfortable silence growing between them as you all walk as a group into one of the main buildings. Taissa and Van walk on either side of you.

“Are you sure you’re okay here?” Van turns to you and asks quietly, looking around the wellness center to make sure no one can overhear. “Do you need, like… a police escort out of here?”

You stop walking. “Why have all of you assumed that I’ve been kidnapped and held here against my will?”

They exchange glances. Taissa shrugs. “This place… is a cult.”

“It’s not a cult,” you say sharply. “It’s an intentional community.”

“An intentional community,” Taissa repeats. “Run by Lottie.”

“Lottie… is mindful,” you try. You look over at Lottie again, but her back is to you as she leads the rest of you into the area where you lead group meditation classes. “She puts a lot of care into this place.”

“Apparently,” Taissa takes in the elegance of the meditation room, the heliotrope cushions placed along the dark wooden floors and the soft light coming in through the windows. “Hey, by the way… why the fuck is everyone wearing purple?”

You don’t get to respond. Everyone’s attention is pulled toward Natalie when she joins you and recounts how she tried to kill herself before being kidnapped by some of Lottie’s followers.

It doesn’t help to dissipate the belief that you were kidnapped, too.

You notice the look Shauna is giving you — like she’s waiting for you to share your story of being abducted as well.

“We host a variety of meditation seminars and group activities,” Lottie says, continuing in an explanation she’s giving of everything the wellness center has to offer. She reaches out a hand for you to take, smiling softly. “It’s been a joint effort, one we’re very proud of.”

You take her hand and step closer. Under everyone’s scrutiny her touch is soothing. Her thumb runs nervously over the back of your hand, drawing a smile to your lips — you know her tells of stress, but you also know that closeness is just as remedial for her as it is for you. You notice the way she relaxes with her hand in yours. The comfort extends to you as well. You resist the urge to loop an arm around her waist and lean your head against her shoulder or press a kiss to her cheek, trying to retain a little bit of professionalism considering your high status at the wellness center.

“Hold on,” Misty pushes up her glasses and jabs a finger in your direction. “You work here, too?”

“I do,” you nod, looking up at Lottie and meeting her eyes for a moment before turning back to Misty. “I’ve been helping host classes ever since the wedding.”

“The wedding?” Shauna steps forward. “Are you two…”

“We’ve been married for a few years now,” Lottie says as if it’s obvious. Her gaze shifts across all of them. “I thought you all knew. We sent invitations.”

Guilt sweeps across the group, and Lottie stands a little taller. She pulls her hand from yours and extends it out for the group so they can see her wedding ring — you join her, the two diamond rings shining together, a representation of your love that has gratitude swelling in your chest. You realize the extent of your prosperity, reflected in everything you have here. You have the wellness center, you are bound to Lottie in a promise of lifelong devotion. You wake up every morning with her in your arms, you go to bed each night with her, even on nights when she falls asleep on the couch with her head in your lap and you have to shake her for ten minutes until she wakes or somehow carry her into the bedroom.

“Congratulations,” Van says, smiling as she looks over your rings. She furrows her eyebrows, looking at the rest of the group like she’s won a bet. “Though I have to say, I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not surprised?” Misty scoffs. “I was calling it since the beginning.”

You let your hand fall to your side. When Lottie snakes an arm around your waist you lean into her, secure now in the display of your love.

“I’m still not convinced you’re here of your own free will,” Natalie tilts her head at you mischievously, “but congratulations. You two fucking lunatics deserve each other.”

sexy yellowjackets taglist: @webism @ahauandthesun @chaithetics @marleymarleymarleymarley @szczurkanalowy @aphrodyk3 @ludasgf

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 3 of Danny the forever teen in the DC universe au, he gets a new hero identity and is introduced to superpowered kids.

[Pt 2 here]

The Titans and Young Justice don't interact as teams very much. Like, they see each other outside of teams fairly often, but it's only as individuals. The teams don't question the sudden combined meeting being called, though. Batman, Red Robin, and Robin were the ones to call it, and after a month of complete radio silence from the Robins, their teams are excited to see them again.

Red Robin cheerfully waves and Robin nods to their teams as they help Batman set up his briefing. It takes a minute, but the Robins flank Batman's sides once everything is ready. It's a detailed presentation of Ecto Entities and a short explanation on what exactly the JL and Bat clan has been working on.

"Any questions?" Silence. "Good. Now there is someone I would like you all to meet. He will be floating between your teams when he isn't helping the Justice League Dark and Justice League."

"Wha-? Are we getting a new babysitter??"

"Hn. In a manner of speaking."

"Nah, he's cool. He just needs to hang out with people his physical age that aren't just Bats." Red Robin waves away the babysitter allegation before looking to his left. "Don't you agree?"

A glowing young teen fades into visibility. He has white hair and green freckles dressed in black and white armor with neon green highlights and starry motifs that looks similar to Robin's, just without a cape. The black domino mask he has neon green lenses verses the usual white. "Oh! Um.. I guess so?"

The young heroes excitably shout before Batman cuts them off.

"Silence!" There's a couple mumbled apologizes as Batman waves the newcomer to stand in front of him. "Introduce yourself."

The kid makes a head movement that the Robins use to indicate they're rolling their eyes at you, even if you can't see it, while complying. "Hello, I'm Astrum. I'm the reason you just had to learn about ecto entities, as I am one. I both am and am not 14 years old."

"What do you mean?" Beast Boy asks, "About the age thing."

"Aw, well, there's 3 separate ages I can give." Astrum continues once the confused noises die down, "I'm physically 14, but I've been an ecto entity for 30, so I might count as 30, but chronologically, I'm 44. It's why I can't commit to only working with adults or children, I'm technically both and will need to interact with both to be emotionally healthy in the long run."

"That sounds confusing."

"Welcome to my life. A confusing painful disaster. I might explain more later, but unless you're about to dive into all your deepest traumas right here and now, I ain't explaining shit." Astrum grins at them, his teeth are a little too sharp for comfort.

"Language."

Astrum whips around to gape at Batman. "Langu-?? Seriously, B-man??"

"Don't bother. He still does that to 'Wing and Hood. There's no escape." Red Robin tells him. The poor guy flounders over the news.

"Hn. Meeting adjourned."

"Cool! Come meet the teams, Astrum!" Red Robin drags him towards the teens. He introduces each person with their full government name and hero identity, getting a lot of stuttering.

"Red! Why are you giving him out secret identities??" Wonder girl protests.

"Because he's Phantom! He can be trusted!" Impulse says, and Astrum jolts and starts trembling.

"Please.. please don't say that name.." Astrum looks so much smaller. "I.. there's too much trauma involving it now...."

The teens rush to reassure him they won't call him that again. If only because the Bat Clan members look a little too calculating. No one wants a pissed off Bat being petty towards them.

"Thanks... I have another name you can call me when we're hanging out outside of hero work." The teens perk up at that. "My name is Danny... just Danny."

"No lastname?" Artemis curiously frowns.

"My human lastname is irrelevant, I stopped associating with it after my birth parents vivisected me." That gets a lot of sputtering.

"We should move this to the lounge." Red Robin pipes up.

"Indeed. We plan to introduce Danny to the many movies he missed out on in the last 28 years." Robin adds. "He's more out of date than I was."

"WHAT?"

"I was being hunted. I didn't have the time or money to see movies" Astrum whines, letting himself be bodily dragged to the lounge.

"Be happy I had a PowerPoint of all the slang you needed to know to survive this." Red Robin teases.

And that's how Astrum, previously known as Danny Phantom, starts hanging out with teens and forcibly learning to be a modern teen himself. He doesn't go on many missions with them because he is too overpowered, and it can hurt the other teens' confidence. He hurts the adults who think he's a dumb kid's confidence when he goes on missions with them too, usually it's a daylight JL member. So he doesn't take it personally.

He loves working with the Flashes, Supers, Wonder Woman, and Zatana, but the Bats and John Constantine are his absolute favourites to work with. They understand how he works the best and can roll with the punches if he does something unexpected. He also lives in the Watchtower, the view of space feeding his obsession is excellent on his mental health as well. Everyone slowly adjusts to this semi-feral ghost child being under foot, doing his best to be helpful, and absolutely demolishing any supernatural threat with ease. No one realizes how powerful he actually is because he holds back and doesn't inform anyone he's the Ghost King.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hellooooo!

I have an idea and I am going to give it to you if you want.

Reader that is deaf, Yandere!Sonic, yandere!Knuckles, yandere!Shadow (separately) the bois didn't know that reader is deaf until eggman's robots decided to attacked them. They called out for reader but only to realize that reader is deaf.

A/n: these were kind of rushed

Yandere!Sonic/Knuckles/Shadow x Deaf Reader

Sonic:

Being around Sonic was always an adventure. His constant energy and carefree attitude could light up any situation, and for someone like you, Sonic's world was exhilarating. He’d often dash off mid-sentence, leaving you to guess what he was saying, but you didn’t mind. His antics spoke volumes on their own.

What Sonic didn’t know about you, however, was your deafness. You’d learned to adapt, reading lips, watching expressions, and observing the world carefully. Sonic, being Sonic, never noticed. His world moved so fast that he didn’t question why you didn’t always respond immediately or why you tilted your head to watch him so closely.

It all came down one day when Eggman’s robots attacked. You were walking through Green Hill Zone, enjoying the breeze, when the ground trembled beneath your feet. Sonic, as usual, showed up in a flash, shouting something. You didn’t catch it, but you smiled at him and nodded.

"Hey! You’ve gotta get out of here!" Sonic yelled, but when you didn’t move, his smile faltered. He darted to your side, grabbed your hand, and led you away from the battle.

As you both reached a safe spot, he turned to you, his brow furrowed. "Why didn’t you move when I told you to?"

You could tell he was upset, but before you could explain, another explosion erupted, and Sonic raced back. He took down the robots effortlessly, but his mind was racing faster than his feet. Something wasn’t adding up.

After the battle, Sonic confronted you again. His normally carefree demeanor was replaced by concern "Hey, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on, right?"

When you finally explained your deafness, Sonic’s eyes widened. At first, he was stunned, then guilty, and finally, protective.

"Oh, man... I had no idea. That’s why you didn’t move?" He paused, running a hand through his quills. "I can’t believe I didn’t notice. You could’ve gotten hurt!"

From that moment on, Sonic became glued to your side. He was always watching you, ensuring you were safe. He started learning sign language, obsessively practicing until he could communicate with you fluently. While his efforts seemed sweet at first, his protective nature quickly became suffocating.

"I can’t leave you alone," he’d say, standing in your doorway as you tried to explain that you needed space. "What if something happens? What if I’m not there to protect you?"

Sonic’s world was fast-paced, but when it came to you, he was willing to slow down, if only to keep you by his side.

Knuckles:

Knuckles wasn’t one for small talk. His nature meant he rarely spoke more than necessary, which suited you just fine. Your communication with him was largely through gestures and expressions, and he didn’t question it. To him, it felt natural, like the two of you shared an unspoken bond.

But that bond was tested the day Eggman’s robots came for the Master Emerald. You had been helping Knuckles keep watch, your presence a calming effect on him. When the first robot appeared, Knuckles barked out a command.

"Get back! I’ll handle this!"

You didn’t move, too focused on the robot’s sudden approach. Knuckles sighed in frustration, rushing to shield you. After taking down the first wave, he turned to you, his eyes blazing with anger.

"I told you to move! Why didn’t you listen? Are you even listening?"

Your confusion must have shown on your face, because Knuckles stopped mid-rant. His fists unclenched as realization dawned. "Wait... can you even hear me?"

When you shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as you signed your explanation, Knuckles froze. He wasn’t mad at you, he was furious with himself.

"I didn’t know..." he muttered, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "You’ve been here all this time, and I never noticed."

From that day forward, Knuckles became overbearing. He was always by your side, watching you like a hawk. He insisted on teaching you how to defend yourself, his training sessions grueling and relentless.

"You need to be able to protect yourself if I’m not there," he’d say, though the thought of leaving you alone made him sick to his stomach.

Knuckles’ obsession with your safety only grew. He’d isolate you on Angel Island, insisting it was the only place you’d be truly safe. "I alone, am capable enough to protect you" he’d say, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Shadow:

Shadow was observant by nature. It didn’t take him long to notice that something was different about you. You rarely reacted to loud noises, and your eyes were always focused on his lips when he spoke. Still, he didn’t say anything, content to keep his suspicions to himself.

That changed during a mission to stop Eggman. You were part of the team, assisting while Shadow handled the heavy lifting. When the attack came, Shadow barked out a command.

"Get to cover!"

You didn’t respond, your attention fixed on the approaching danger. Shadow cursed under his breath, teleporting to your side just in time to shield you from an explosion.

After the battle, he confronted you, his eyes narrowed. "Why didn’t you listen to me?"

When you explained your deafness, Shadow’s expression didn’t change, but his mind was racing. He hated the thought of you being vulnerable, especially in a fight.

"You should’ve told me," he said, his voice cold. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

From that moment on, Shadow took it upon himself to protect you. His methods were extreme, he shadowed your every move, ensuring you were never out of his sight. He even went as far as to demand that you stay out of battles entirely.

"You’re a liability," he’d say, though that wasntbthe full truth. Shadow didn’t see you as a weakness, he saw you as his responsibility. And in his mind, that meant keeping you safe at all cost, even if it meant controlling every aspect of your life.

"You don’t need anyone else," his voice soft yet chilling. "I’ll protect you. Always."

[potatoplace]

A Place In This World

The Afterthought: Chapter 5 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Working at Sevenda's is a welcome escape from the River House, where you've become little more than a ghost after Starfall.

Warnings: toxic family, depression, self deprecating thoughts (none of them are too terrible this chapter)

Words: ~8.4k

Author's Note: I never seem to get as far in the plot as I want to in every update... This chapter isn't too crazy exciting, but there's some sweet moments and a little bit of angst with the sisters. I hope you all enjoy this update! Title is of course from Miss Swift 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Your neck was stiff when you came to, the beginnings of the morning sun spilling across your face.

The ground outside was glistening with a fresh layer of snow, nearly untouched at this time in the morning. It seemed even the early risers had chosen to sleep in today, after the revelry of Starfall last night.

You, however, wouldn't stay asleep any longer. Not with the cold numbness slithering through your chest, curling itself around your heart, your lungs, your ribs. An absent hand came to rub at your chest, to bring some semblance of life into your hollow heart once more.

No such luck.

A glance at the clock that had recently been placed above your bedroom door told you that it was half past six.

That gave you two and a half hours to bathe, drink tea, possibly eat something, dress, and make your way to Sevenda's.

You did just that, sinking down into hot water, a sigh leaving your lips as your body soaked in the heat. You could almost pretend you felt alive.

After forcing yourself from the bath, you dressed in a simple, dark green dress. It was made of cozy wool, and the long sleeves were easily pushed up to make whatever work Sevenda would give you easier. It fit you loosely and reached to just above the tops of your feet, something you were grateful for after last night.

The feel of all those males' eyes on you... It was unsettling then, and unsettling to think about now. You could hardly imagine wanting to be looked at like that by someone you actually liked, let alone by strangers... How could Feyre stand it? How could anyone stand it? You supposed each person was different...

You shook your head, clearing those thoughts away. No need to contemplate how inexperienced you are in the romantic world, despite what Nesta claims.

Quietly, you crept downstairs, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be awake, teapot in hand. Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen yet, and you were able to prepare a pot of tea with no interruptions. Safely ensconced in your room again, you sipped at the lovely orange and cinnamon tea you had made.

As you stared out at the still-sleeping city, your mind drifted to last night. How Feyre had had no time for you, and Mor hadn't appeared while you had been in the House of Wind. Feyre had been crowded by the citizens of her city, that was understandable... Mor not showing up worried you though, but you were sure there was an explanation. And your other sisters and their mates, well, you hadn't believed they would interact with you anyways.

Azriel had been... Surprising. Caring. Sweet, almost. Him noticing that you had left wasn't something you had even considered, with how close he had been with the pretty redheaded friend of Nesta's. And... You had become accustomed to not having your absence noticed.

Your eyes closed for a moment, a wave of sadness washing over you.

You still felt so alone.

The minutes continued ticking past as you stared blankly out the window, sipping on your tea when you remembered to.

Soon enough, it was fifteen minutes until nine, and you peeled yourself out of the armchair. Boots first, then the short cloak, scarf, and mittens Azriel had given you for Solstice- also the ones that he had draped around you last night in the cold.

You wondered how he had gotten them...

You just barely remembered to grab the cup that Sevenda had lent to you before you snuck out of the River House, into the snowy city.

The walk to Sevenda's was peaceful, quiet. Most citizens of Velaris seemed to still be sleeping, and the blanket of snow on the ground muffled everything. The silence of the normally bustling city matched the feeling in your heart.

Empty. Cold. Quiet.

Sevenda's was warm already, the smell of spices lingering pleasantly in the air when you pushed your way in through the door.

"Ah, Y/N! Lovely to see that you decided to come in," Sevenda's warm voice greeted you from the left, a hand waved in greeting.

"It's nice to see you too, Sevenda. And thank you, again. I really appreciate the offer. I brought back your cup," you added, raising your hand to show it.

"Thank you, dear," Sevenda said, taking said cup from your hands. "Would you like to get started?"

You nodded your head, and let the fae lead you to the back of the restaurant, into the kitchens. It was large, with multiple shiny, silver stoves along the back wall, three matching cold boxes, a wall completely taken up by pots, pans, anything that you would need to cook. There was also counter space galore, with two other fae already working dough in the far corner.

"For today, I'm going to see how you do with prep work, mainly with fruits, vegetables, and meats. If you do well, I'll keep you on full time, if you'd like," Sevenda said, her words sparking a bit of hope in your chest.

Chopping, dicing, cutting. You could do that.

"That sounds perfect, Sevenda. Thank you for giving me this chance."

Sevenda smiled warmly at you, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Of course, dear. Now... Are you feeling alright?" She asked more quietly, a concerned look in her eyes.

You nodded. Even though you weren't, you didn't want to rehash last night's events. "Yes, thank you." You even shot her a smile that you hoped was at least half-convincing, relieved when she returned the expression. "What should I start with?"

"First, you'll need an apron and to wash your hands," Sevenda said, leading you to the large sink, which conviently had a plethora of aprons hanging on hooks next to it.

You did as she asked, scrubbing your hands under hot water halfway up your forearm, dress sleeves already pushed up to your elbows. You tied a dark blue apron around your neck and waist, and faced Sevenda, who was pulling a cutting board from a cabinet. You noted the location, wanting to be as useful as possible as often as possible.

"I'll start you off by demonstrating how I like everything to be cut, and you'll do the same thing right after. I know it will be a lot to take in, but most of it is fairly simple. Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"

"Alright," you said resolutely, nodding your head.

The hours passed quickly, filled with you absorbing the information that Sevenda was feeding you through her demonstrations, taking in every angle that she used the knife at. You did decently, your cuts a bit clumsier than Sevenda's but still accurate enough. She was kinda, reassuring you that in time, you'd gain confidence and surety in your movements.

It was lovely.

Feeling needed. Feeling useful. You had entirely forgotten how that felt over the last two years, being the extra sister with no magic to help in a way that someone else couldn't.

By the time your shift was finished, Sevenda had pulled you aside to speak with you, anxiety building in your gut even as she smiled warmly at you.

"I'd like to hire you on immediately, full-time if you'd like," Sevenda offered, a twinkle in her eyes. "You've already got the basics down, and you're on track to catch up with my other prep cooks so long as you keep at it with the same enthusiasm you showed today. So... Would you like to have a job?"

A smile- a true, unburdened smile spread over your lips. "I'd love to, Sevenda. Thank you so, so much for this opportunity."

"Thank you for solving my dilemma of hiring a new prep cook, Y/N! Now, do you have an account with the Bank of Velaris already?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I do... But it's the one that Rhys and Feyre set up for me. Would I be able to make a new account?"

You still felt like such a child, knowing so little about how the city you lived in worked. You had spent so long wishing and longing to leave that you'd hardly taken the time to learn about Velaris. Seeing how you were stuck here, likely permanently... The thought sent a pang of sickness to your stomach. But still, since you were stuck here, you might as well start learning about the city in which you will die.

"I'm sure that could be set up... Would you like any help with it?" Sevenda asked.

"That would be amazing, but you don't have to," you said, hoping that she didn't feel forced to help you, after your breakdown last night.

"Oh, nonsense, I'd love to help you Y/N. We can go in a few minutes, I just have a few more questions for you. Now... Would you like to work five or six days a week?"

That was an easy choice. "Six days would be best, I think." Less time in that house, waiting to be left out of events and dinner conversations.

"Alright, and if you ever want to go down to five days, just let me know and we can work something out. Do you have a specific day that you'd like off?" You shook your head. "Would Mondays be fine with you?"

"Mondays would be just fine," you replied. "Do you..." You paused, rolling the question over in your head. "Do you know of any apartments for rent? You don't have to answer, of course, I just thought I would ask," you said quickly, already regretting the question.

Sevenda merely smiled at you. "I do know of a few close by. Once you have a week or two of pay in your account, we could go look at a few sometime, if you'd like?"

You nodded quickly. "That would be amazing, Sevenda. Did you have any other questions for me?"

Sevenda closed her eyes for a moment before fixing them on you once more. "None that I can think of at the moment, but you'll be back tomorrow in case I forgot anything. Now, let's go get you a personal bank account," she said cheerily, rising from the table you had sat at. You followed her lead, letting her take you to the large, white marble building that had a large matching sign with, presumably, its name written in the large gold lettering on it.

Making an account was easy enough, and within the hour you had a small metal card, magically linked to your bank account in hand, your first day of pay already deposited by Sevenda.

You walked back to her restaurant with her, parting with a brief hug, initiated by Sevenda.

"I'll see you in the morning, Sevenda," you said, the words repeated back to you by the kind, chocolate eyed fae.

And then your legs carried you without thinking, back to the River House. The snow had melted just slightly, and was significantly more trampled than when you had arrived this morning. The sun was nearly set already, casting a pretty orangey-pink glow over the city.

Pretty.

The River House was warm when you entered, and thankfully there was no boisterous laughter coming from the living or dining rooms.

A part of you still longed for someone to ask where you were, what you had been doing all day.

But you knew better by now. And you were proven correct when no one came to greet you, even while you made a small dinner of rice with grilled vegetables. You even ate in the dining room, a rarity for you in the past months, the tiniest part of you hoping that Feyre might come in to talk with you. Or that Mor would show up, and you could spend part of the evening together.

Neither happened, and soon enough you were back in your room, a fresh pot of tea in hand, soothing, calming lavender and chamomile again.

You had enjoyed your day at work, but it had exhausted you. All you wanted at the moment was to fall asleep, but you chose to do something else before crawling into your makeshift bed in the tub tonight.

You would try to read. With your gift from the twins in hand, you pulled the cookbook that Nesta had gifted you, filled with lovely illustrations of soups and stews from all corners of Prythian.

Slowly, you let the magnifying glass read out the title a few times, your brain trying to make sense of the letters on the cover turning into the words you were hearing. It was embarrassing, how long it took you to be able to understand a sentence, even with it being read aloud to you. Heat rushed to your face, even with no one in the room to witness your shortcomings.

You tried reading a recipe, going one word at a time with the glass. That... Sort of worked, though it was slow going. And you felt like the only reason you were mildly successful was that the words were being read aloud to you.

How pathetic.

You sighed heavily before draining your last cup of tea and shutting the recipe book. That was enough of disappointing yourself for the night.

You stripped yourself of the dress you'd donned the morning, changing into a soft, long sleeved white cotton sleep dress that met the skin of your ankles, swishing softly against them with each step.

Sleep came easily to you that night, your body tired from doing so much work when it had grown accustomed to sleeping all day and rarely moving. It was a pleasant kind of tired, though, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning went much the same, with you rising before the sun to bathe and have a soothing pot of tea. Work flew by, with you completely focused on improving your knife skills for the seven hours you were there, determined to not let Sevenda down.

Before you knew it, you'd already worked three days in Sevenda's homey restaurant, settling in comfortably, even with the other fae you now worked with. Josi and Torma were the other two prep cooks, and both of them had been warm and welcoming to you. Sevenda's sous chef, Wren, had been a little less friendly, but you'd noticed that he was like that with everyone except Sevenda. He wasn't rude, or anything, just quieter.

It was on your fourth morning of work, a Saturday, that your routine was interrupted.

Azriel was in the kitchen, patiently watching a pot of oatmeal cook, shadows playing around his wings and over his shoulders, a couple of them breaking away to crawl up to his ears.

"Good morning," you said quietly, going to the cupboard that housed the kettle.

"Good morning, Y/N. You're up early," Azriel remarked in a neutral tone, neither judging nor questioning.

"Mm, thought I'd have a cup of tea before everyone else was buzzing around..." You said, feeling mildly guilty that you hadn't told him the full truth. You set to filling the water and setting it on the burner next to the one Azriel was using, then turned to grab your teapot. "Would you like a cup?" You asked before you could stop yourself and consider the possibility of being rejected, even for a simple cup of tea.

"I would very much, Y/N, thank you. Would you like some oatmeal? I'm afraid I've made too much..." Azriel said softly, a tiny frown on his face as he stared at the pot before him.

A small smile grew on your face at his reaction. "That would be nice, thank you." You pulled two of your teacups out of the cupboard. A few minutes later, the two of you were sat on stools at the kitchen island, a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea in front of each of you. The oatmeal was delicious, flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, which paired well with the apple cinnamon tea you had brewed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally stifling a giggle when a shadow brushed over you, their cool touch tickling the back of your neck and your ankles. Curious little things...

Soon enough, though, it was time for you to depart from the River House, and return to the one place that you felt wanted in this city. Azriel had finished his breakfast as well, so you grabbed his dishes, ignoring his protests in favor of washing them.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

You rolled your eyes playfully, even though he couldn't see your expression. "I know that, I wanted to." Bowls, cups, silverware were all placed in the dish rack, clean and shiny from the water dripping off of them. Once that was finished, you returned to your room for a brief moment to grab your scarf and hat, and when you returned downstairs Azriel was lingering near the front door.

"Going somewhere?" Azriel asked neutrally, only a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You blinked at him once, twice. Strange, that it would be him who would know that you were employed first. "Yes, I'm going to work," you said plainly, hoping that his neutrality would continue. While you wanted your sisters to know... You wanted them to find out because they paid attention, not because Azriel had.

"Oh? Could I walk you there?" His question caught you off guard- if anything, you had anticipated him asking if Feyre or Rhys knew or had approved of the job. In your surprise, you nodded in agreement, and moments later the two of you were out the door, walking through the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. You noticed a few of his shadows moving in front of you, pushing some of the snow from your path.

Cute.

"How long have you been working?" Azriel asked from your right, following the path you were taking.

"Just a few days, so far," you replied, trying to give the minimum information so you wouldn't bore him... Starting a new job was hardly an accomplishment for a fae of his age.

"Are you liking it?"

You nodded immediately. "I'm loving it already, working with food is probably the most natural choice I could have made." Too many words...

"That's wonderful, Y/N. It's nice to see you smile again," Azriel said softly, drawing your eyes to him. He was wearing a small smile on his lips, one that you realized matched your expression. A light flush spread over your cheeks- was your happiness always so obvious?

"It's nice to feel like smiling again..." You said quietly, more to the air around you than Azriel himself.

Sevenda's was in sight now, and you slowed your pace. While Azriel may just be being nice... He was still being nice to you. And having someone be kind to you was something you craved nearly every second of every day, so you wanted to savor it, even if it was selfish.

"Do..." Azriel paused, as if he was considering his words carefully. "Does Feyre know that you're working? She hasn't mentioned it."

"Uhm... No, I haven't told anyone yet," you admitted.

You saw Azriel nod his head in your peripheral, and you hoped it was one of understanding.

"Do you want them to know?"

You hesitated. "If you're asking if you can tell them... I'd rather you not."

Another nod as you approached the door to Sevenda's, stopping in front of it. "I won't tell them, then. Sevenda's, hmm?" You bobbed your head in confirmation. "That's good, she's a great boss from everything I've heard."

"She's amazing, if I can be honest," you said, gratitude in your voice. And she was. She had been so kind to you, and so helpful.

"I'm glad, Y/N," Azriel said, his voice the warmest that you had ever heard from him. "I'll let you get inside. Have a good shift."

"Thank you, Azriel. Have a good day," you said, waving goodbye to him before entering the warm restaurant, a smile on your face.

Your day passed quickly, filled with the delicious smell of spices and fresh cut vegetables, the sounds of sizzling meats and bubbling stews. This job at Sevenda's was truly a blessing, distracting both your mind and body as you listened to the friendly chatter between your coworkers and focused on what you were doing.

The River House sounded empty when you returned, completely devoid of sound. No running water, or voices in the living room. The entire night, you saw no one, not even Nuala or Cerridwen. You even spent a few minutes sipping tea in the living room - though you left quickly, feeling out of place even while alone - hoping to see Feyre for a moment. You hadn't seen her since Starfall, and... You wanted to see her. You also would have been able to ask her where Mor was, but alas, the question would have to wait.

The next evening, after your final day before having a day off, you saw Feyre for the first time in five days. She was glowing with happiness, both naturally and from the magic you knew she had gotten from... One of the High Lords - you still weren't sure which.

"Y/N! Come, sit with me for a little bit," Feyre said, dragging you onto the couch in the living room with her. You had just barely gotten your boots and scarf off before she met you in the entryway. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It has been a bit," you agreed, settling in beside her. You glanced around, noting that Nesta and Elain were seated next to each other on the love seat, angry stares trained on you.

At least they weren't glaring yet...?

"So, how have you been?" Feyre asked you, drawing your attention away from your other sisters and back to her.

"I've been fine, Fey. Just..." You debated telling her about your job. That would also mean Nesta and Elain knowing... But... You wanted Feyre to know. "I've been... I've been working."

Nesta scoffed from where she was seated, whispering something to Elain. You frowned. What problem could she possibly have with you having a job?

"Really?" Feyre asked skeptically. "You... Where are you working?"

Her tone, the sheer disbelief in her voice had you regretting ever opening your mouth. Being honest was obviously not a good choice for you anymore. "At Sevenda's restaurant..." You said quietly, met with a dainty snort from Elain. Heat rushed to your face, especially when Feyre frowned at you, as though she didn't believe you.

"Really? That's... That's really nice, Y/N. I'm happy for you," Feyre said with a strained smile. You didn't believe her for a second.

Still... "Thank you, Feyre. What about you? How have you been feeling?"

"Tired," Feyre moaned dramatically, a hand on her forehead. "The little one seems to be draining all of my energy, I've had to start eating double what I normally do just to feel like I can function."

"Maybe you can stop by Sevenda's when Y/N is working," Nesta suggested in a snarky tone, causing Elain to giggle into her hand. "If she even works there... What Sevenda would need with you, I have no idea."

Tears pricked at your eyes, though you fought them. Why were they so mean to you?

Feyre glared at Nesta, but said nothing in your defense.

She probably agreed with Nesta's words.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling so exhausted Feyre. Maybe there's something that could be taken off your plate for a little bit, until you're feeling better?" Another scoff from Nesta.

"I don't think there is, Y/N. It takes a lot to run a court..."

You knew that. Of course you knew that. "Oh... Well, I hope that you feel better soon, then. I'm... I'm going to go take a bath. I'll see you later?"

Feyre nodded. "I'll see you later. At dinner?"

There was no way in hell you would be showing at dinner tonight. "Maybe," you said, standing from your place next to her. You made your way out of the living room, ignoring Nesta and Elain's glares, up the stairs and into your room.

Happy. You had been happy when you returned home. You were proud of the fact that you had gotten a job. And yet the three people that should have cared, should have shared in your happiness and pride? They couldn't care less. They didn't even believe you.

That only served to solidify your choice to leave this cursed house as soon as you could, to continue in your plan to have your own living space. And, of course, it put tears on your cheeks, on the blanket that you curled into as you laid in the bathtub.

🤍🤍💖🤍🤍

In your first three weeks of work, you never saw Mor. You did, however, receive a letter from her on your first day off, read to you by the glass the twins had gifted you. She had apologized profusely for not showing up to Starfall, though she had a good reason. The citizens of the Hewn City had demanded to have a member of the High Lord's Inner Circle stay with them through the celebration, and as the only one already there, that duty had fallen to her. And in the week since, she had been constantly fighting with Keir over the upcoming election that was planned, hardly having a moment to herself.

Which was why the letter had taken so long to be written.

You felt horrible for having thought she had abandoned you, though you knew there was a reason you had jumped to such a conclusion.

Every week since then, Mor had managed to find the time to write you a letter, each one asking about how you had been, informing you of the lastest bullshit her father had put her through. You looked forward to each letter from her, but wished that you could see her in person, or at least write a letter in response. You missed your friend. According to her most recent letter, the one that had arrived two days ago, she would be returning to Velaris for a few days in the next week.

You were excited to see her again, but more than that, you were excited to move into your apartment today.

Sevenda had shown you to two different available apartments last week, and on Monday you had signed your lease. The building was only a couple of blocks away from Sevenda's, and it was a cute little place on the third floor, with a balcony that had a decent view of the mouth of the Sidra and the harbor. You already knew that you would be taking your tea on it once the weather had warmed, the view was too amazing to pass up an opportunity to look over.

The walls inside had already been done in a shade of light pink the day before, the cabinets of the kitchen coated in a pale lavender, a move in gift from your new landlord. It was a small space, that was true. Besides the bathroom and built in closet, the apartment was one large room, with no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, the kitchen from the bedroom.

But you didn't mind.

Because it was yours.

And truly, how much space did you need? There would be enough room to have a small dining table, a loveseat and a couple of armchairs in front of the fireplace - which you had been absolutely delighted to see - and a large bed. You could even put up screens or curtains to partition off your bedroom, if you felt like it.

The possibilities felt endless as you lugged your small amount of belongings over to your new place, bursting at the seams with happiness.

Today, Sevenda had given you the day off so that you could move in, though you had tried to insist that you wouldn't need the whole day. Still, she had made it clear that you deserved the day to settle in and purchase whatever you needed, even going as far to give you a week of advanced pay.

Moving your belongings took you less than an hour, even in the snow, and only three separate trips between the River House and your apartment. The presents you had recieved for your birthday and Solstice, the clothing that you couldn't part with, skincare items, and your hairpin all went with you, but everything else in your old room stayed.

You had decided against informing anyone of your move, choosing instead to quietly remove your things. If they truly cared about you, they would notice your absence soon.

If they didn't... You would deal with that if it came.

By midday, you were shopping in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, on the hunt for cookware. You already had the wonderful measuring cups and spoons that Nuala and Cerridwen had gifted you, as well as your tea set from Azriel, but you would need a bit more than that to be able to cook at home.

That lead to you entering a lovely little shop, filled to the brim with pots, pans, and cooking utensils in every color of the rainbow.

For now, you only bought one frying pan and one pot with a lid, both in a shade of pink that matched your measuring cups. You also purchased a set of three mixing bowls in the same shade, made of a light but durable clay. A spatula, wooden spoon, whisk, and a set of silverware also came home with you, along with a few cleaning supplies that the store happened to carry, but anything else could wait for now.

You carried your bounty home, arms sagging under the weight of your purchases as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. Everything was put away in a matter of minutes, and you allowed yourself to relax on the floor for a bit, letting your arms flop out to the sides.

You could hardly believe it... A smile crept across your face as you lay on the floor of your own apartment, that you had earned the money for. You had done this for yourself, all on your own.

Once your arms felt less weak and tired, you sat up and looked around the room. It was... Fairly barren. Your pink bedding set and blanket from Mor were in the far right corner of the apartment, the box of your clothing placed next to it. Near the door to the bathroom you had placed your box of toiletries, and in the kitchen you had already stacked your cookbooks and teas on the counter and placed your dishes in the cupboards.

You needed some kind of furniture tonight, if you could manage to find something your weak arms could carry home.

And towels! How had your forgotten about towels? Oh- and food, you would need something at least for tonight.

You let out a breath. Maybe Sevenda was right, that you would need most of the day to get settled. You got up after another moment and put your boots back on, along with your hat and scarf.

A trip to the Palace of Thread and Jewels provided you with the towels you needed, in an assortment of pastel shades and sizes, as well as a fluffy purple bath mat. You even remembered to pick out two fluffy pillows as well, just in case you slept on the floor or in the tub tonight. As you were leaving the Palace, you couldn't help but pick out a soft, sky blue blanket one of the outdoor stalls, the green skinned fae bidding you farewell with a kind smile. You walked home, snow beginning to fall just before you entered the building.

You deposited your bags on the floor to the left of your front door, and set down the stairs immediately after locking up. Before the snow started to accumulate, you wanted to get a chair or something so that you would have a place to sleep for the night. If you couldn't find anything... Well, the bathtub looked to be the same size as the one in the River House.

When you had been out earlier, you thought you had spotted a second hand store, filled with mismatched furniture. You retraced your steps, and found it to be in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Inside, it was cluttered, with small paths leading through the building. It was near the back of the store that you found something you might like- a tall backed, wooden chair with a pink velvet cushion and backing, the legs of the chair curved and elegant.

Why would someone ever part ways with this?

You continued to the back of the store, finding a pale, short fae male sitting behind a counter, reading a book.

"Hi, I'd, uhm... I'd like to buy a chair that you have?" You asked shyly.

"Which one?" He asked, without looking up from his book.

"The uh. The wooden chair with pink velvet on it."

"Fifty gold marks," the male said shortly, a hand extending to take your bank card and press it to his ledger, all while continuing to read. He handed it back a moment later. "Have a good day, miss."

"Thank you," you said quietly before leaving the counter, going to collect the chair into your arms.

The walk home was slow going, the chair decidedly too big for you to comfortably carry for more than a few steps at a time. But still, you made it, dragging the piece of furniture up the stairs and through your door. You managed to lug it in front of the fireplace, settling into it for a moment.

You almost decided to skip getting ingredients for dinner... But your stomach rumbled in protest, at the thought of continuing to neglect your health in favor of avoiding discomfort. So instead, you pulled yourself from your new chair, then went back down the stairs and into the snowy city one last time today.

The Palace of Hoof and Leaf was a bit further than the Palace of Bone and Salt, but you knew where to find what you were planning to cook for dinner. It was easy enough to find rice, chicken, zucchini, broccoli, and a small set of spices, a large enough selection to satisfy you for at least your first month. Snow had begun to fall heavily while you had been in and out of shops, already covering the tracks that had been on the bridge when you had crossed it earlier, and when you finally made it up the stairs and through your front door, you were feeling tired.

Tired enough that for the moment, you placed the chicken in your cold box then walked over your chair, and plopped down.

You would consider today a success, even with how tired you now were. After all, you were tired in your chair, in your apartment.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

Two days after you moved, you had an unexpected knock on your door, just a few minutes after you returned home from work.

Perhaps it was finally Feyre, realizing that you had moved.

You were proven wrong when you opened the door, however, to see Azriel standing before you, a cloth bag filled to the brim with little jars.

"I- Hello," you said, surprised at him being here, even if he had taken to walking you to work on the mornings he was in town. "Can I- Can I help you?"

"I just returned from Illyria, only to find one of my shadows to be very frantic over the sudden emptiness of your room," Azriel said, though there was no accusation in his tone. "And after I spoke with Sevenda, she... She directed me here. I hope that's alright?"

You were even more surprised by the efforts he had gone to to find you, than his presence at this point. "That's fine, Azriel. Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"I... Yes," Azriel said, somewhat shyly, and you swore that you almost saw a flush covering his cheeks. "You never did tell me which teas you enjoyed, so I brought you a jar of each. I thought you might like to have a bit more, now that you're living on your own."

That was... Incredibly sweet of him to do. You were running low on your tea stash at the moment, and knowing that he'd thought of you...

Don't get any feelings, or hints of feelings, you reminded yourself. Humans and fae don't belong together, no matter how kind and attractive they are.

"Thank you, Azriel," you said, stepping aside to let him through the doorway. It was only polite, after all, to let him in. "I'll take those," you said as you grabbed the bag from his hand, moving into the kitchen to take arrange the little jars on your counter.

"You don't have a bed," Azriel observed from behind you, a hand on your chair, where your blankets were still piled.

"Oh, I'm uhm... I'm still working on that," you said sheepishly, abandoning your task of organizing the jars. Your eyes darted over everything, looking for anything else he could find issue with.

"Let's go solve that, then."

"I- What?" You asked, thoroughly confused. He was offering to go shopping with you...?

"We can go find you a bed today, Y/N. You need something to sleep on, and while a chair is fine for a little bit, it really would be best for you to have a bed," Azriel said simply. You were still staring at him in shock, so he sighed lightly and said, "Think of it as a housewarming gift, Y/N. You can pick out whatever you want, and my shadows will bring it here for you."

"I- But... Why?" You managed to get out, even as you mentally kicked yourself for being so awkward.

Azriel's mouth turned up in the corners at your reaction. "You need a bed, and I'd like to know that you're sleeping comfortably."

"But... Why?" You repeated, still confused.

Azriel sighed and shook his head. "You're my friend, Y/N, I like to know that my friends are well taken care of. And that starts with a good night's sleep, which starts with a bed," he explained as he walked over to your closet, pulling out the scarf and hat that he had gifted you. He wrapped the scarf around your neck and put the hat on your head, lips turning up more as you stood there and let him. "Now get your boots on, unless you really don't want to go."

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him, but you did as he said, slipping your boots on and lacing them up. "Alright... Thank you, Azriel."

His lips turned up into a full smile this time, a beautiful sight on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Now, let's get going before it gets too dark."

You let him lead you across the Sidra, to a shop in the Palace of Flame and Steel that specialized in wooden furniture.

"Pick out whichever one you like most," Azriel had told you, with a pointed look telling you that he would know if you tried to pick the least expensive option.

He watched as you went from bed to bed, mattress to mattress trying to find the right combination. You had been in the store for nearly an hour by the time you made your choice, settling on a walnut frame. It had a nice headboard, with little creatures carved into the posts on both sides, a feature that was continued at the corners of the end of the bed. Some of them looked like little cats, a pet that you had always wanted to have but never could afford in the human lands, and when you had been able to, your family had firmly shut the idea down.

For the mattress, you had laid on one that felt like a cloud, supporting your body in a way that you had never experienced. Perhaps... Perhaps Azriel was right, after all.

You felt dreadful, though, as he paid for your new furniture, even as he reassured you that it was a housewarming present and he was more than fine paying double the amount if he had needed to.

He walked you back to your apartment, and, as promised, your new bed was already set up along the back wall, looking extremely inviting even without bedding on it.

"You should let me repay you," you insisted to Azriel, a hand on his forearm stopping him from leaving. "I can't... This is too much," you said.

Azriel's eyes shined with understanding as he read the guilt in your own. "It's okay, you know. To be given things, without the need to reciprocate. But... If you still feel that you need to repay me, I suppose you could make me dinner some time," Azriel suggested.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you sure I can't pay you back?"

He shook his head. "The only payment I will accept is in the form of food, Y/N. Again, this is a housewarming present, it is a gift that I am giving to you of my own free will. I am, however, partial to your cooking, which is why I would accept that as payment."

You sighed, but nodded your head. You would pay him back with food, as often as he liked. "What days are you in the city?"

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

It took two more days before Mor was in town, which you found out about two hours into your shift when she burst into Sevenda's, speaking loudly enough that you could hear her in the kitchen.

A moment later Sevenda appeared, your blonde friend in tow.

"Y/N!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you into a hug once you had set down your knife. "Oh, girl, I have missed you so much!"

You squeezed her back tightly, overjoyed to see her again. "I've missed you too, Mor!"

Mor pulled away a moment later, her face serious. "Where are all of your things? I went up to your room in the River House to see you, and none of your stuff is there! Feyre had no idea either..."

A flush spread over your cheeks. "Oh, uhm... I moved out?" You said hesitantly.

Mor blinked at you a few times before a smile slid over her face. "You... Moved out?" She giggled. "And you didn't tell anyone? Was it this morning?"

You shook your head. "No, it was on Wednesday," you admitted softly, turning your gaze to the floor.

"And Feyre didn't... Oh, sweets," Mor cooed, pulling you into another hug and stroking your hair. You pushed her away after a moment, face bright red at being comforted in front of your coworkers.

"It's okay, Mor, really. I've already accepted that they don't notice me," you said, hoping that you had successfully hidden your pain. You may have accepted that your sisters pay you no attention, but it didn't mean your heart didn't hurt.

Mor frowned at you, but accepted your answer for the time being. "Well, when are you off work? I can stop by again, and you can show me your apartment!"

"I'm normally off right around five, you could come back then."

"Sounds like a plan, sweets!" Mor said brightly before leaving the kitchen, waving at you before being shooed out by Sevenda.

You quickly got back to work, determined to make the day pass by quickly.

And it did. The next five hours went by fast, filling you with a feeling of accomplishment as you finished everything Sevenda had asked you to do a few minutes faster than usual. Something as simple as that made your day so much brighter, easier to fight away the feeling of loneliness that followed you most hours of the day.

Mor met you outside as she'd said she would, a shining ray of sunlight even as the sun had begun to set.

"So- I leave town for a few weeks, not that I wanted to," Mor grumbled as you linked arms with her and began to lead her to your apartment. "And when I come back, you've already had a job for three weeks and you've moved into your own apartment? I am so proud of you Y/N."

You blushed at her words, but still allowed yourself to soak them in. "Thank you, Mor. I'm glad that you're okay with it."

Mor frowned. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it? I think it's amazing that you decided to move out, everyone deserves their independence."

You nodded, but your thoughts were on your sisters... What they surely thought of you, leaving without a word... "It's just... I don't know. My sisters... Weren't very supportive of me even having a job, let alone having my own apartment."

"Oh, hon, don't worry about them. I think they're just jealous of you having your own life outside of our little circle. Now, Nesta and Elain... They could certainly use a talking to," Mor hissed. "And Feyre isn't much better, letting them get away with their behavior."

You shook your head. What would they have to be jealous of? Being lonely? Having at most three friends, if you were being generous with the term? "It's fine, Mor, really. I've stopped expecting them to act any certain way, it's just... Easier."

Mor sighed next to you. "I suppose so... Anyways, tell me what's been going on!" Mor said cheerily, sensing your hesitancy to speak about your sisters.

"Well... Not much, beyond the moving out and getting a job. Although..." You thought about Azriel, how you now considered him a friend- and he thought the same of you. "Azriel has been very nice, he brought me some tea blends when he found out I moved. And helped me find a bed."

"Oh, I'm sure he did," Mor said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You smacked her arm lightly and shot her as much of a glare as you could muster.

"Not like that Mor!" You exclaimed, blood rushing to your cheeks at her insinuation. "He helped me go to a store and his shadows brought it back to my apartment."

"Oooh," Mor laughed. "Okay, I misunderstood, Y/N. I'm glad that he's been a good friend to you while I've been away."

"I am too, Mor," you said softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

You unlocked the front door of your building, letting Mor pass through the doorway before you, then led her up the stairs.

"Three flights? I must be spoiled, only having a flight to go up one at my place," Mor said by the time you reached the top, your fingers fumbling for the correct key.

"It's not all that bad, Mor," you giggled as you swung the door open, letting her go in first, and closing the door softly behind you.

"Oh, Y/N! This apartment is so you!" Mor said brightly as she looked around. "The bed looks amazing." She flopped down on it, sighing happily after she did. "You chose good, sweets."

"Thank you," you giggled, plopping down next to her. "I'm so glad the owner was willing to paint, it saved me from trying to do it myself."

"And it looks lovely too, and as I said, very you. So," Mor started, a hand flung onto your thigh. "I thought, if you have a day off while I'm in town, we could do a sleepover again! Either here or at my apartment, whichever you'd prefer."

"That sounds lovely Mor. If you're still here tomorrow, and you don't have plans tonight, I have tomorrow off," you offered.

"That's perfect! I'll go get a change of clothes and pick up some food on my way back, if that works for you, Y/N."

You nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me, Mor. I'll see you in a little bit?" The two of you stood from your bed, Mor's hair the tiniest bit rumpled from being squished against your mattress.

"Yep! Any preferences on food?"

You shook your head. "Anything is fine by me Mor, get whatever you've been missing while in the Hewn City."

Mor's face scrunched up at the mention of the Hewn City. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "I think I'll get some kind of pasta. Pasta sounds perfect for a sleepover."

"That sounds good to me. Walk safely, Mor, it's been slick out at this time recently," you warned, smiling when Mor winked at you playfully.

"I'm always careful, sweets. See you in a bit!"

You shut the door behind her, a smile on your face. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed your friend until you saw her again.

Not wanting to waste your alone time, though, you pulled yourself into the bath, determined to finish before Mor returned. While you didn't feel disgusting, you felt a bit dirty from work still, and if you're spending the night with Mor you'd like to smell decent.

Still, you let yourself relax in the steaming water for a few minutes, bubbles coating the water's surface. Your lungs expanded and collapsed rhythmically, lulling your heart into a state of peace.

Maybe... Maybe you could belong in Velaris.

Maybe it was your sisters that you didn't belong with, any more.

But with Mor? With Azriel? At work? You felt like you had begun to carve out a tiny little place for you to exist peacefully, if not happily.

A deep sigh left you.

You wished... You wished you could belong with your sisters once more. Your heart longed to see them, to share your joy with them. But... They never seemed to share in it with you.

So, you would settle for carving out a space for yourself.

No, it's not settling, you told yourself as you began to scrub at your body with a cloth. It's choosing to live, not to merely exist.

You may not know what you want out of life, but you're willing to find out now.

You willing to try your hand at living once more.

🤍🤍💝🤍🤍

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[mistymisfit]

A leaky faucet and other problems (or how he asked you to move in together)

wc:2.3k

warnings: suggestive content, a creepy neighbor, living in an old ass apartment problems

a/n: inspired by actual things that have broken in my apartment and my need to tell everyone I love them when I drink

He's tired, that he can know for sure. His body is sore, begging for some rest as he finds his place on your bed. In your sleep, you cuddle yourself closer to him, arms wrapping around him and legs tangling with his own. You were under the blankets, covered head to toe and even wearing a sweatshirt, and still needed more warmth. He knew you were more sensitive to the cold than him, but still felt it a bit excessive. Yes, your place was cold, but it wasn't a shivering-there's snow outside type of weather. It was early fall, so the temperature could drop during the night, but never enough to warrant this type of protection. Then he felt the freezing gust of wind coming through your window with a noise that felt straight out of a horror movie. Why didn't you close it? When he tries getting up again, you stop him. A sigh of his name and your soft hands made him drop his head in his pillow.

"Where are you goin'?" You slurred, barely conscious.

"Your window's open, 'm just gonna close it,"

"Don't bother," You pulled him closer. "It's stuck."

"I'll just give it a shot." He gently takes your arm off him, tucking you in before he even goes to the window.

You sigh, he knows you'd roll your eyes if they were open. He struggles, putting all his weight, trying to get your window to slide and close. And you sit on the bed, turning the little lampshade on your nightstand to see your boyfriend fighting with your bedroom window in his underwear.

"Jay, just come to bed," you insist, and as tempting as it sounds, he won't give up.

"You'll waste a lot on heating this room,"

"My heating doesn't even work." You yawn, and he turns back, staring at you in disbelief.

"Babe," You could feel the lecture coming after that sigh, so you beat him to it.

"My lease is up in a few months, I'll move before the winter, and it'll be my landlord's problem,"He doesn't seem content with your explanation, but takes it anyway. It's better than arguing at six thirty in the morning on a Sunday.

"Fine," He mutters, slowly dragging his feet back to bed with you. "I'm still fixing that window tomorrow "

You called him, all giggly and drunk, asking if he could pick you up from your friend's birthday. He had been waiting for you to do so, and insisted that no matter how late, he'd drop whatever he's doing and drive you home. So he shreds the Red Hood gear, hides it under a false bottom on the trunk of his car, and drives to whatever location you sent him. You're especially handsy, clinging to him as soon as you could. Greeting him with a big toothy grin before tugging on his jacket to lean him down so you could kiss him. Your friends cheer, and he pulls away embarrassed. Since when do you like PDA? He lets out a nervous laugh as you wave your goodbyes to your friends, walking out wrapped around his arm.

You don't stop praising him the entire ride to your apartment, telling him how good of a boyfriend he was, how perfect he was, and listing everything you liked about him. Completely unaware of how his face was burning red, the blush reaching up to his ears. You even reached to kiss his cheek on a red light. He just makes you settle down on your seat, asking you to sit still for the reminding blocks, muttering a low "Jesus fucking Christ"

Jason all but had to drag you to your elevator, and you're all giggles when he asks you to give him your keys when he can't find his. You hold them out in front of you, but when he goes to take them, you're fast to grab his jacket once more to kiss him. What the hell, he thinks, might as well give you what you want. So he pushes your back against your door, your lips parting in a gasp when he pushes his knee in between your legs.

That's when another door next to you slowly opens and an old man peeks his head out to see what's going on. Your entire demeanor changes, hiding behind Jason and whispering: "Please, open the door".

"I'm sorry," He apologizes.

"Ah, no worries," The man pushes open his door a bit more and Jason doesn't miss the way he's eyeing you"Do you need any help?"

"We're good," He does a great job of pretending to be cordial but firm "goodnight"

You're quick to walk inside, tugging on his sleeve so he would follow you. Putting on every lock on your door as soon as you're both inside, clearly shaken by the presence of your neighbor. He decides to have some mercy and question you about it tomorrow when you're sober. But that night, he didn't push you when you said you were okay, and only helped you get undressed and ready to go to bed before he left out of one of your working windows.

A few weeks later, he caught that same man trying to open your door. You wouldn't be home in a couple of hours, that's why he went ahead and did some much-needed grocery shopping for you. He just cleared his throat behind him, startling him and intimidating him from his height alone. Jason had broad shoulders, and even behind his clothes, the man could tell that he had the muscles needed to beat him up quite badly.

"I just wanted to come in and say hello, but her door's always locked," He explains, Jason stays quiet. Why wouldn't it be? But more importantly, has he tried to break in before? The guy can see the set of keys in his hand, brows furrowing as he thinks "You're her boyfriend, right?"

"Yes" His reply is short, as he eyes him up. Assessing weak points and how fast he could take him down if needed.

"And I take it you live with her?"

"I do,"He lies, hitting the man's shoulder as he walks past him to get to the door "and back off"

His warning is enough to scare him as he nods walking back to his apartment as fast as he can. You've got some explaining to do once you get back. And you do, he calls you to sit on the couch with him as you thank him for taking care of the groceries. You had already started to talk about what to make for dinner and what movie you could watch together before he left when he interrupted you.

"Baby,"You stop, recognizing the stern tone that just screams don't play with me "is there anything you wanna tell me?"

You shake your head no, and he shifts closer to you before insisting: "not even about your neighbor who tried to break in today?"

"Mr. Davis?" You sigh defeated, "He's just an idiot, a harmless idiot"

"So that's his name," He raises an eyebrow, already planning how to fuck with this guy's head in a way that will leave him too afraid even to get out of his place for the rest of his life. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Because you get all scary like this!" You push his shoulder, effectively doing nothing "I can tell you're coming up with some strange way to scare him"

"I'm not!" He lies, looking away and telling you all you needed to know to see you were right.

"You are!" You laugh, the tension suddenly dissipating as you grab one of the decorative pillows to hit him. He takes the pillow from your hands and throws it away, before he can even think of retaliating; you're straddling him, and his hands went to your waist by instinct alone "Promise you won't do anything"

"Don't make me lie," He pleads, and you roll your eyes at the cheeky smirk on his face."You said you wanted pizza and to watch a horror movie? Right?"  

"Jason"

"Fine, I promise" He gives in, and you smile before he adds: "not to leave him with injuries that'll last for the rest of his life"

He's barely had time to say hello and explain how tired he was after training before you were on him. He was expecting a quick peck on the lips as always, he always kisses you when he sees you; it's routine. But when he notices your devious smirk before pulling him in he knows you're up to something.

"Mind if I take a shower first?" He asks, hands on your waist, keeping you in place. Since when is your hello kiss a hello make out?

You shake your head no, but follow behind him to your bedroom. He shakes his head, scoffing as he sits on your bed to take off his shoes. You sit behind him, peppering kisses on the side of his face and then his neck.

"Needy, aren't we?" He smiles, turning to kiss you. He melts into your lips, a hand cupping the back of your head as yours sneak under his clothes before pulling up his shirt to help him out of it. "C'mon princess, 'm filthy"

"Don't care,"you sighed against his lips, hands finding their way under the waistband of his sweatpants. "I like you like this."

"Okay," He laughs nervously, and takes your hands off him.

"Ask me to join you in the shower." You offer

"Yeah?" You nod along him, smiling.

Then he hears it. Tap, tap, tap. It's an insufferable noise coming from your bathroom. Do you not hear it? He takes a deep breath so it won't get to him. He's with you now, and somehow you're trying to get into his pants just 'cause. There's no way he's ruining this with you, so he kisses you again, trying to knock the air out of your lungs in the hopes it'll silence the incessant noise. It doesn't. Not even when he grabs your hips to guide you to straddle him. Not even when he hears your pretty moans of his name, begging for more. And not even when you grind on him, making his breath stutter.

"I'm sorry," Jason stops you, your big eyes staring at him as you wait for him to speak. He almost forgets what he's going to say, too lost in your gaze to form words but (un)luckily the dripping noise pulls him out of it. "what's that noise?"

"What noise?" Your tone is soft, almost curious. Did you really not hear it? Or had you become too accustomed to it?

"Your bathroom..." He licks his lips, his eyes involuntarily going to yours. He quickly moves up his sight before he speaks: "Do you have a leak?"

"Oh, yeah" You smile, like it's the most common thing in the world "it's my faucet, but I've already called my landlord, and said he couldn't get it fixed until next week"

"Really?" He raises one eyebrow, anger boiling up inside him as he tries to hold it back. Maybe he should pay a visit to your landlord without your knowledge too; you couldn't be living in these conditions anymore. He sighs and pushes it back, he knows you wouldn't like it "You know, I could get some tools and fix a couple of things for you"

"Maybe later" You suggest your hands lifting up your shirt before he stops you.

"Ten minutes, I have a safe house nearby" He's blushing now.

He's faster than ten minutes, you know because you barely sat down to read a couple of pages before he was back. You put the book down to watch something way more entertaining, your boyfriend doing things for you.

"Baby,"

"Yeah?"

"Not much seems to work around here," He sighs, your eyes laser focused on how his arms flex as he tightens your leaking faucet, effectively fixing it in just a few seconds. Something you were told you had to wait a week for. "Plus, you've got a creepy neighbor that you won't let me beat up"

"hmm, It's closer to my job than my last place" You explain, half paying attention to what he's saying.

"You'll move out, won't you?" He's beating around the bush, avoiding what he actually wants to say.

"I already found a place, it's smaller, but it's a new building" You smile as you lean on the door frame; you almost laugh at your own joke before you say it "and I'm not bringing the creepy neighbor with me"

"Don't sign the lease," He blurts out, nervous. It's now or never.

"What? Why not?"

"Let's move in together," The serious stare he gives you leaves you speechless, he was ready for that? "I mean, I already spend a lot of time here... would be nice to have more space than half a drawer for my clothes"

He fidgets the wrench nervously waiting for your answer. He could take no for an answer, but it didn't mean it wouldn't shatter his heart in pieces. But just a few seconds later, not allowing him to overthink your lips twist up in a smile before you jump at him. He catches you not even taking a step back or loosing balance, but dropping the tool in the process. You're quick to kiss him all over his face, your lips never staying on the same place for more than a few seconds.

"I'd love that, you can have a full drawer if you want" He scoffs as he kisses you again, slowing down your sudden burst of energy

"You're gonna fuck me in the shower now?"

"Yes" He nods, poorly concealing his excitement.

[smilesatdawnmain]

Taken Back (Part Two)

Previous

Next

——-

As the two children embraced, there was a sense of confusion and amazement in the air. Broken only when the Monkey Prince spoke.

"I know you," Xiaotian whispers, his words filled with wonder.

Macaque’s ears flickered, startled. He didn’t know what that meant, and perhaps Xiaotian didn’t understand either. When he looked at Wukong, the two parents were left puzzled as the boys sobbed and clung to each other.

“Um…” Wukong drawled out, gesturing to the two in hopes his mate might have some input.

Macaque did not, but he stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the two boys. He hadn’t even had a chance to really look at this human cub yet before this was all happening. He placed a hand on Wukong's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I think," he said softly, "We need to talk." they exchanged a long and meaningful look. This was strange- stranger then anything they had ever seen before, and they had seen a lot in their time.

Wukong nodded, his own gaze still fixed on Xiaotian and MK. He had never seen his son react this way to anyone, let alone a complete stranger. It was as if the two children shared a bond that transcended explanation. “Yeah,” he was in complete agreement. Yet, before they could, he felt it was best they deal with this… situation? “Uh- Xiaoxiao?” he called to his son tenderly.

Xiaotian sniffled, lifting his tear-streaked face from MK's shoulder to look at his father. "Daddy," he said, his voice trembling, "Can... can he stay with us? Please? Forever??"

“Forever??” Wukong's heart clenched at the pleading look in his son's eyes. He admits… he had a similar thought, but for Xiaotian to also feel this way? He glanced at Macaque, who seemed equally torn. "Oh- Xiaoxiao," Wukong began gently, grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck. He shouldn’t just say yes, he knew. "MK has a home of his own. We can't just-"

"No!" Xiaotian cried out, clutching MK's against his chest, clinging to him with all his might. His parents stiffened, feeling a cold chill shoot up their spines when their child screamed, “No Daddy, don’t take him away! No no- please!” He was clinging to MK, sobbing his little heart out.

Wukong was panicking immediately, eyes wide, having never heard his son plead before. Mihou almost rushed forward to grab and console him, barely forcing himself still. “X-Xiaoxiao-??” Wukong stammered.

“Please—! Pleaseee-“ Xiaotian’s voice cracked.

Wukong’s entire body tensed and his stomach tightened, wanting with all of his being to alleviate his son’s concerns. He was waving his hands around in a frantic manner. “Okay! Okay! He can stay!”

“Wukong?!” Macaque smacked his arm.

“For dinner!” Wukong added in after wincing and rubbing his arm. “W-We uh- he’ll stay for dinner.” he nodded, sounding more assured. “Which your Baba and I have to prepare. Sooo-”

Macaque shot Wukong a pointed look, but seeing the desperation in his son's eyes, he softened. "Yes, Sun Spot, your friend can stay for dinner. Okay?" He managed a small smile. They watched the concern leave Xiaotian’s teary gaze, softening as he nuzzled the boy in his arms.

“Otay…”

There was a shudder to Macaque’s shoulders, carefully reaching out to brush a few tears from his baby’s face. It was painful to see him so upset “W-Why don't you show him around Flower Fruit Mountain while your Daddy and I get things ready?"

Xiaotian's face lit up, smiling through a tearful expression. He rubbed his arm to his eyes, sniffling. His voice was crackly as he patted MK’s shoulders, drawing the boy’s head from his chest. “Hey- Hey, you are- MK? MK right?” he had heard his Daddy say it a few times.

MK gave a rather pitiful nod, feeling so drained from crying. When had he last done this? “Yes… I’m MK.” he patted his chest. Everything felt so sensitive. Like the saturation of a game getting put higher then it ever had before, making it hard to adjust. It was bright, loud… amazing…

Xiaotian smiled, taking MK's hand again and giving it a squeeze. "I'm Xiaotian. But you can call me Xiaoxiao if you want." Every time he seemed to brush away some tears, more seemed to follow, so he opted to push through them with a smile instead. “Wanna play? With me?”

MK nodded eagerly, his own smile breaking through the tears. "Yeah! I wanna play with you, Xiaoxiao." The nickname felt natural on his tongue, as if he'd been saying it all his life. “Is- Is that alright?”

“It’s alright! Baba said yes,” he looked up at his Baba expectantly. He could often get a yes from his Daddy. It was his Baba who was sometimes the tricky one.

With his arms folded, Macaque nodded. They needed a moment to regroup and discuss this whole “MK” situation and what this possibly meant. And yet- when MK looked up at him with those big teary eyes of his- Macaque was struck with nostalgia.

This was a human boy, and yet, for some reason, he thought he was looking at his Mate.

It didn’t make any sense in truth, but MK looked the spitting image of Wukong when he was that age. Lacking in the fur, of course. It was his face that held the similarity. Same nose, same eyes shape, same opened mouthed stare. He looked at Wukong sharply, who hadn’t seemed to notice this.

“Baba?” Xiaotian asked when his parent seemed lost in his comparisons

Macaque cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with Wukong to smile gently at the boys. "Of course it's alright, Sun Spot. You two go have fun.”

Xiaotian's grin widened. He tugged on MK's hand, leading him towards the lush jungle that surrounded their home. "C'mon, I'll show you all my favorite spots! We can climb trees, and dig holes, and look for cool bugs and-" His excited chatter filled the air as the two boys disappeared into the foliage, their laughter echoing in

Macaque called after them, “Be back before sundown for dinner!”

“Otay Baba!” came their son’s chirp in reply.

“Otay, Six Eared Macaque,” MK added in a softer voice.

Xiaotian was distantly grimacing, “Don’t call Baba that. He is Baba.”

“B-But-” MK says. “He is that. The Six Eared Macaque.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“NU-UH! He is Baba, or Mihou, or MOON.”

“He’s not the moon??” MK says, confused

“My Daddy calls him the Moon! So yes he is!”

They couldn’t see the children anymore, but could still hear them as they took off into the mountain. Wukong was grinning ear to ear as he stared at his Moon, seeing that way Macaque’s tail twisted and he hid a smile behind his hand at how cute to the two boys were together.

“You thinks he’s cute~” He cooed.

“Shh it,” Macaque shakes his head.

As the children's voices faded, Wukong turned to face his mate, "Mihou, did you see that? The way they reacted to each other? It was like..." with a tad more seriousness, he found the whole interaction so curious. He was happy the boys were quick to get along, but their initial meeting was so bizarre.

"Like they already knew each other," Macaque finished, his brow furrowed in thought. It was bizarre. "I've never seen Xiaotian respond to anyone that way before. And the human boy, MK... there's something about him."

“I told you! Just looking at him once and it was like-” Wukong nodded, his own mind racing. "I don’t know how to explain it.”

Macaque was never one to disagree with Wukong’s gut feelings. His mate could peer the very essence of the truth, so of course he believed that something was odd about the child. He just hadn’t expected it to be odd and involving Xiaotian as well. “The child doesn’t seem dangerous.”

Wukong nodded in agreement. "No, he's not dangerous at all. Just a sweet little boy. But there's something special about him, Mihou. I felt it the moment I saw him at the city. It's like he was meant to be part of our lives." he was babbling now, Macaque quick to stop his mind from taking an inch and running a mile with it.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Wukong, we can't just take in a human child on a whim. There are so many things to consider - his upbringing, his education, how he would fit into our world. He is soft and fragile. His life span wouldn’t match ours. He would be at risk from demons and-”

“Xiaotian is also fragile and he is perfectly safe with us.” Wukong tried to disagree. His mate shook his head in return.

“You never let Xiaotian out of your sight because you are so concerned for his safety. Your argument is invalid.”

Wukong's shoulders slumped, knowing Macaque had a valid point. "I know, I know. But did you see how happy Xiaotian was? How they both were? It's like they found a missing piece of themselves in each other."

Macaque's expression softened. "I saw it, peaches. And it warms my heart to see our son so joyful. But we have to think this through carefully. MK has a life in the human world. We can't just uproot him on a feeling, no matter how strong it may be. Can’t just- throw him into a world he’s never known. The city and here- it’s so different. There would be no other humans around here. He might feel…” Macaque rubbed his arm. “Alone.” Then he sharply pointed to Wukong, “Not to mention-” and he made this point clear, “You are talking about adopting him, essentially. Being. His. Parents. That is Huge, Peaches.”

“I-I know-” Wukong was bobbing his head up and down.

“Are you sure?? Because you seemed convinced that was going to be what was happening when you stepped off that cloud a few minutes ago,” Macaque squinted his eyes at him.

They had never talked about having more children before. It was a… a pleasant thought, if Macaque was honest, but should never be just done on a whim. Xiaotian was so sick all the time, with his delicate health requiring their constant care and attention.

Wukong rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Then he frowned, "I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself," he admitted. "It's just... seeing them together, it felt like it was meant to be.” He says with such certainty as he takes his mate’s hands, “When I'm with MK, it feels right. Like he-” he stepped closer to his love, to his Moon, “He belongs with us. With Xiaotian." Was it truly crazy to think- that there had always been a spot for MK in their lives?

Macaque let out a slow breath, captivated by those eyes for a brief moment. They were so sincere and genuine. He gently touched Wukong's cheek with his hand, "I…” perhaps somewhere in his own chest, something was pounding. Something was screaming for him to listen but… “But we need to think it through carefully, for everyone's sake. Especially MK's and Xiaotian's. We need to think about what's best for that little boy. He's had a tough life in that orphanage.” he didn’t need to see MK long to know that, “We can't just swoop in and change everything overnight. We need to do this right and answer these questions.” false hope, false promises- he would hate to force that on a child.

Wukong's grip loosened, but the intensity of his gaze didn’t waver. He recalled how openly MK stared at passing families during their time in the city. Longingly… “You’re right,” as he always seemed to be. His clever Moon. “How do we- answer this? Do we ask Xiaotian or MK?”

Macaque paused to listen to the boys in the distance. Talking, asking each other questions- learning about each other. They were still technically strangers, even if their meeting seemed more like a reunion. “I’m not sure either of them know what this all is,” he concluded. “Let’s…” he took Wukong’s hand. “Start with a play date and dinner, just as we said.” He concluded. One step at a time. “Give me some time to reach out to Yellow Tusk and the others and understand this. Give us a both a chance to talk to Xiaotian on what is going on in that little head of his.”

Wukong agreed with that plan, squeezing his hand back. After a moment or two, he swung their fingers together. “….” His lips were squiggly, clearly eager to say something but holding himself back.

Macaque frowned, then smirked and quirked an eyebrow, “Say what is on your mind.”

Like a dam Wukong spilled, “He likes to draw Mihou. He’s creative, and is so clever. He writes notes. Notes. Has a little journal he writes his notes and stories- like you did when you were younger.” Of course they used the cave walls since paper wasn’t available sometimes- but when Mihou did learn of human journals and parchement, he was using it none stop.

Macaque lips lifted, curling into an amused smile. It was clear his mate had already formed a strong bond with the human child. "He sounds like a bright little boy," Macaque acknowledged, snorting at the feeling of Wukong’s wagging tail, “I can see why you're so taken with him." It was cute how much Wukong already adored this boy- and how much the King wanted to share that adoration with him.

Wukong grinned, his tail swishing happily. "Just wait until you get to know him more, Mihou. He's got such a curious mind, always asking questions and wanting to learn. Reminds me of a certain someone..." He gave Macaque a playful nudge.

Macaque arched an eyebrow inquisitively and crossed his arms with a smile. "Well then, if he needs some paper, we can provide it," he said, finishing by fixing the bow on Wukong's scarf. He nuzzled their noses together. “Watch those two for me while I investigate a little.”

Wukong leaned into the nuzzle, savoring the tender moment with his mate. "I will, my Moon," he murmured. His voice was a tad softer, "And thank you, for being open to this. I know it's a lot to take in." he shifted his weight a tad.

Macaque’s expression was tender, his fingers lingering on Wukong's scarf. "It is, but I trust your instincts, Peaches. If you feel this strongly about MK, then there must be a reason. We'll figure it out together."

With a final affectionate brush of his tail against Wukong's, he turned, dropping into his shadow.

Wukong's grin grew wider as he gazed off into the distance. He thought about simply keeping an eye on the boys, but where was the enjoyment in that? Mihou didn’t mention any limitations on playing. With a wide grin, he dashed towards the source of the little one’s joyful noises. As he approached, he let out a loud roar.

“Here comes Monkey King!!”

Xiaotian was shrieking, alerted and grabbing MK’s hand. “Run! Daddy’s coming!!!” He motioned for MK to follow, giggling wildly. At first surprised, the human boy glanced back to see Wukong trekking towards them in a dramatic fashion, stomping and flailing as if performing a play.

“Oh!” MK gasped They had enough time to run away, thanks to Wukong's slow and exaggerated movements

“Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!!”

MK squeaked and took off running with Xiaotian, the two quickly disappearing into the thick woods as the Monkey King followed closely behind.

The King's playful roars echoed behind them, spurring them on faster. "This way!" Xiaotian called, tugging MK's hand as they veered left, ducking under a curtain of vines. They emerged into a small clearing, sunlight filtering down through the canopy in shimmering beams. They ran past a few of the tribe members, who giggled and chirped as they ran. “Hi Taru!” Xiaotian waved as they passed one of the younger guards, who gave a soft smile and waved back to them. He looked curious of MK, but his smile was just as warm.

MK's eyes widened with wonder as they dashed through the jungle, taking in the vibrant colors and exotic plants. He had never seen so many trees before. He had never seen anything like this before - it was like stepping into a storybook.

Xiaotian's hand felt warm and reassuring in his own as they navigated the winding paths together.

"Over here, MK!" Xiaotian called, pulling him behind a large tree trunk. They pressed their backs against the rough bark, trying to stifle their giggles as they heard the Monkey King's exaggerated stomping growing closer.

"Where oh where could my little monkeys be?" the Monkey King called out in a sing-song voice. XIaotian giggled as he leaned into MK, who panted to catch his breath.

My.

MK touched a hand to his chest.

Monkey King said “My” little Monkeys. MK’s heart was swelling, feeling so big he had to remind himself it was a slip of the tongue.

Xiaotian was touching his arm, jolting MK a little. When they locked eyes, MK relaxed, sensing- understanding.

It was like Xiaoxiao could peer into his head and just knew.

No one had ever truly knew or understood him before.

MK grinned. He couldn’t stop grinning and in return, Xiaotian did the same, both covering their mouths to be quiet when Wukong got closer.

His footsteps crunched on the fallen leaves, circling closer to their hiding spot. "I hope they're not... right... HERE!"

With a dramatic leap, the Monkey King landed in front of the tree, arms spread wide. Xiaotian and MK shrieked with delight, scattering in opposite directions as the Monkey King playfully lunged for them.

MK darted to the left, his heart pounding with excitement. He had never played like this before. He brushed his messy bangs out of his face, sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him. He had only ever played with Mei like this before.

He couldn’t wait to tell her all about this.

This must be his Angel’s doing. He had never met his angel before, only getting tea left for him in the middle of the night, but only goods things had happened since his angel came around.

He must have heard his quiet whisper of wishes every night! He must have!

MK's thoughts were interrupted as strong arms scooped him up from behind, lifting him high into the air. "Gotcha, little one!" the Monkey King exclaimed, his laughter ringing through the jungle.

MK squealed with joy as the Monkey King spun him around, the world becoming a blur of green and gold. When the spinning stopped, MK found himself nestled securely in the Monkey King's arms, gazing up at the legendary hero's face.

"You're fast, Kid," the Monkey King praised, booping the boy's nose. “But, not fast enough to avoid me~ Now where is Xiaoxiao-?” MK giggled, then laughed harder when Xiaotian was jumping down from the trees above with a little battle cry. Smacking against Wukong’s face, the man yelled, “Hey!” Wukong stumbled back, wailing as Xiaotian clung to his face. "Ah! I've been ambushed by my own son!" he exclaimed dramatically, pretending to wobble unsteadily. MK giggled from his perch in Wukong's arms, watching the playful tussle between father and son.

Xiaotian called triumphantly, his tail wrapping around Wukong's neck in a fluffy hold. "I got you, Daddy! Now you have to let MK go!”

"Oh, do I now?" His father paused, body stilling and smirking under Xiaotian’s little hands, half leaning back. “A scamp is trying to steal my victory?

The Monkey Prince look perplexed, but clearly that is how this game worked. “Yes.”

Wukong considered this for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "Well, if you say that then..." With a sudden twist, he flipped Xiaotian over his shoulder, catching the little monkey by the ankle. Xiaotian shrieked with laughter as he dangled upside down, his fur ruffling in the breeze.

“Daddy! You are cheating!” he waved his arms around.

“I am not~” Monkey King sang. “I’m catching a scamp how all scamps need to be caught.”

Xiaotian wiggled, but when he could not escape, he locked eyes with his only hope, "MK! Save me!” He wiggled his arms towards him.

MK gasped, realizing he needed to do something. He looked down, perplexed. The Monkey King’s hold wasn’t too solid, so he carefully slipped jfrom his arm to his shoulder. Wobbly and careful, not even realizing Wukong was giving him plenty of time to do so, he got onto the King’s back. He scrawled across the expanse of it to the other side, dangling from Wukong’s bicep now. This took about 2 minutes, Wukong lips so squiggly as he tried not to laugh and stay serious in face of the boy’s very determined little pouts. “Don't worry Xiaoxiao, I'll save you!" He reached for Xiaoxiao’s hands, trying to pull him from Wukong’s clutches.

Wukong chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he watched the two boys struggle. "Oh no, whatever shall I do against such mighty heroes?" he exclaimed in mock distress.

MK grunted with effort, his small hands gripping Xiaotian's tightly. He yelped as he lost his footing and fell. He would have fallen had Xiaotian not tightened his hold, now dangling precariously from Xiaotian's hands as they both swung from Wukong.

“…Oh, double scamp. Score.” Wukong smirked. Xiaotian giggled uncontrollably at their silly predicament. Wukong shook his head in amusement. "Well, well, looks like I've caught two scamps! I love a good two for one deal.”

Xiaotian glanced down at MK, eyes sparkling with mischief. For a moment, it was like they shared a single brain. Xiaotian’s thoughts as clear as if they were his own. MK held his breath, dazzled as Xiaotian declared, "Together!" With a sudden surge of energy, both boys swung back and forth like pendulums, trying to gain momentum. As they reached their peak, Xiaotian yelled, “Daddy’s weak spot is his neck!”

“Huh?” Wukong blinked dumbly at them as they swung with enough force for little fingers to tickle under his chin.

Before MK’s very eyes, the Monkey King suddenly squealed and recoiled as a high-pitched sound erupted from his throat. "No! No! Not the neck!" he roared playfully, twisting side to side as he tried to evade their tiny fingers.

MK and Xiaotian made one final synchronized push. They surged forward, grasping on tight as they tickled Wukong's neck with all their might. The Monkey King let out an exaggerated cry of surrender, pretending to collapse to his knees in dramatic fashion. "Okay, okay! You win!” he released them.

The boys tumbled together into a heap of laughter, rolling across the forest floor as Wukong dramatically fell back, clutching his neck and groaning like a wounded warrior. "Oh, the betrayal! My own children have turned against me!" he mocked, his voice laced with exaggerated despair.

MK looked up from their tangled pile of limbs with a sharp look of shock. There it was again. It might have meant nothing to the Monkey King- perhaps even a slip of the tongue, but he had just claimed MK as his own again. He didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t dare hope for it, even as the butterflies in his tummy excitedly fluttered.

"We did it, MK!” Xiaotian was pulling him from his thoughts, wrapping his arm around MK’s shoulders in a side hug.

Blinking a few times, MK returned the smile, “W-We did!” they high fived, Wukong watching from the side as he lay “dead” as the two cheered their victory. “I can’t believe it. We defeated the legendary Monkey King!"

"I knew we could!" Xiaotian puffed out his tiny chest, beaming with pride. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of victory and mischief.

“I didn’t.” MK admits, shaking his head. He would never think in his wildest dream he would be here, doing this. It was so wonderful he thought it a dream. “The Monkey King is the strongest ever.”

Wukong’s tail curled a little in delight, then flattened when his son not so kindly snorted, “No Daddy isn’t.”

Gee, thanks Xiaoxiao…

“But-” MK was starting to argue.

“We, are the strongest.” Xiaotian gestured between them. Wukong curiously lifted his head as Xiaotian touched his chest, “Together, there is nothing we cannot do!”

For a moment, a dazzling and striking moment, Wukong’s inhaled sharply, seeing himself in his son. In MK, he saw his Moon. How boldly he had stated the same thing to Mihou so many years ago, and in return Mihou had said the same in his own hour of need. It was their thing- word for word.

He could see them so perfectly within these two younglings. Xiaotian was so much like himself- his face was the spitting image of Mihou, but with Wukong’s tendency for cheeky trickery. A tad reckless, but thankfully with a little more thought to his actions like Mihou tended to have. While MK…

Wukong touched his own face a little.

MK kinda reminded him of himself, just without fur. The face of his younger self. Yet, the child’s mannerisms fell more towards Mihou. Mihou was so well mannered and easy going, a sweet heart able to switch on a dime to defend those he loved with ferocity. He wondered if MK was similar. He felt it was so when he saw that fire in MK’s eyes sometimes.

Exactly how was that so? How did MK seem so much like the two of them? It didn’t make sense.

As Wukong pondered this, the laughter and excitement of the boys faded into a comfortable silence. Xiaotian had flopped onto his back, arms sprawled wide as if he were claiming the earth beneath him, while MK sat cross-legged, a thoughtful frown etching his brow.

“What now?” he inquired curiously.

“I dunno,” xiaotian says.

MK offered, “I could write down some ideas.”

“You can write?” Xiaotian asked. This was typically the age children learned of course, but Xiaotian had fallen rather behind in his studies. He hated school work.

MK on the other hand, adored it. He just wished he didn’t have to miss so much due to being sick.

"Of course I can!" MK said, a hint of pride sneaking into his tone. He pulled out his journal to show his work. Squiggly, with a lot of misspellings, but a lot of dedication to learning the craft. Wukong crawled a bit closer, laying on his stomach before the boys, curiously eyeing his journal. Xiaotian rolled onto his tummy to copy his Daddy, staring. While he himself wasn’t one for actually writing, he could read rather well.

“You do pretty swirls like Baba does.” Xiaotian pointed to it. His writing was more like his Daddy’s. In every sense, actually. In order to try and motivate his son to learn to read and write, Monkey King had also started to learn- despite insisting he would never try a few years prior.

Anything for his kid.

“Oh hey, he does.” Wukong pressed his finger to how MK spelled “Today”, the y so curly and cute. Just like Mihou…

MK's cheeks flushed a soft pink under Wukong's attention. "Thanks! I try really hard," he said, flipping the pages to show off his latest observations from their adventures. Each entry was adorned with little doodles: scribbled images of the skies—clouds shaped like animals and sunsets that dripped into the horizon like spilled paint.

Xiaotian pointed at a drawing of a particularly complex cloud, “What’s this one??”

MK squinted at it before breaking into a grin. “That one’s a cloud monster! It’s made of cotton candy!”

Wukong snickered when Xiaotian clapped. “Oh! I wanna eat cotton candy!” he looked at his Daddy. “What is cotton candy? I thought cotton was um- clothes?”

“Um- sugary candy. Pure sugar.” Wukong explained. Xiaotian’s eyes sparkled and his father poked his nose. “Too much sugar for a scamp like you.”

“Aww,” Xiaotian pouted.

MK tilted his head, finding that curious. So Xiaotian had never eaten cotton candy? He wrote down that note for himself, wondering what other things Xiaotian didn’t know about. Maybe he could teach him.

There were so many things MK couldn’t wait to tell or show Xiaotian. He hoped he would have a lot of time to do so.

“Oh!” Xiaotian giggled when MK flipped the page, pointing to another picture. “It’s Chapu Chu!” He giggled. Wukong leaned curiously to see a doodle MK had made.

To his surprise, it was indeed Chapu Chu.

When his son was born, Mihou had prepared a little gift for him. A monkey doll that Xiaotian had adored ever since. He had proudly called it Chu, later on calling it Chapu Chu, to give it a full name.

It could be coincidence, but this doodle was very clearly intended to be a doodle of a doll, with stitches and everything. “Why do you-?” Wukong pointed to it. “Why did you draw this?” How did MK know what it looked like?

MK stared at it and then Wukong, “I dreamed about it.” He says.

“Dreamed?” Wukong inquired. The boy nodded, fiddling with his pencil.

“I dream a lot of things.” Many things that didn’t make sense.

Wukong opened and closed his mouth. What did that mean? What did any of this mean?? Unsure, Xiaotian was cooing-

“I dream too!” Though, certainly not the same things MK did.

As the children giggled, MK grabbing a few more pencils so they could doodle together.

Wukong quietly watched.

What a strange, but wonderful boy….

——————

When Macaque returned later to check in on everything, the mountain had been very quiet. Alert at once, he listened intently for the sound of his mate. Hearing his heart beat, he followed the sound. It was slow, steady- the way it only was when…

When he found Wukong, it turned out his husband was asleep. He found everyone, Wukong and the kids, collapsed below a shady tree.

Wukong lounged with one arm behind his head, snorting in amusement. His other arm stretched out to the side, with two little boys cuddled against it, resting their heads on his bicep. Holding hands as they slumbered.

Macaque stilled, the sight as sweet as the peaches on the trees above them. Quietly stepping closer he knelt before them. “So much for watching them. You fell right to sleep.,” he mused, poking Wukong’s velvety nose. He reached out, brushing back a bit of Wukong’s bangs.

Wukong grunted, twitching lightly at the touch but not waking. Instead, he let out a soft sigh, blissfully unaware of Macaque’s presence. The boys stirred just slightly, Xiaotian mumbling in his dreams as he snuggled closer to Wukong, giving the same soft sigh.

Macaque smiled, warmth unwinding in his chest . It was a sight that never failed to bring him joy—their little family nestled against the sunlit grass, unaware of the world beyond their peaceful cocoon. He remembered when it had just been him and Wukong, wild and free, dreaming of someday building a life together, filled with laughter and little adventures.

He felt a gentle tug at his heartstrings as he reached out again, brushing his fingers down Xiaotian’s cheek, soft as the petals of spring blooms. “Awake or asleep, my little troublemaker- oh how perfect you are.” he whispered, kissing his forehead. Taking his scarf off to drape it over Xiaotian, he hesitated for a moment.

He looked at MK, considering the human boy. Quietly, he reached his hand out. He didn’t know what compelled him to do so…

He liked all children, but he was never too affectionate with any he didn’t know. Yet, he found himself brushing aside MK’s bangs.

A flicker of warmth blossomed in Macaque's chest, just as he'd always felt for Wukong and Xiaotian; this was something new- yet something so familiar. He was enamoured, softly caressing MK’s cheek as he had done with his own cub- like MK was his.

Who… was this cub?

What was this tightening feeling in his chest? A blissful pain was the best way he could describe it. It made his heart ache. Not sure what else to make of this, he quietly draped his scarf over both boys, ensuring they were warm below this shade.

Leaning back, he watched the three of them quietly.

None of this made sense.

Still… it was a beautiful day, and these three who danced and played in the sun, were the very embodiment of everything he had ever wanted and more. So he let his concerns settle for now.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ TALKING TO THE MOON

❛ 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘪 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧— 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯? ❜

timeline: 2018

synopsis: After months of avoidance and awkward interactions, two hearts finally break their barriers, sharing confessions under the moonlight and finding the closure they both desperately needed.

warnings: angst, cursing, crying, arguments, mentions of anxiety, yelling, “i hate you!” (lies), closure, confessions, reconciliation, some heart-wrenching shit, simp!Jeonghan, scared!Luna, heart-to-heart talks, explanations, Yoon Jeonghan will be on his knees… begging, heartfelt, hopeful, somewhat a happy and silly ending, ends with fluff

due to popular demand of more angst here is more of the rejection aftermath. this story takes place after If Only & Can I Be Him? and takes place before His English Love Affair. so i highly recommend reading everything in order to understand. every single one-shot in my blog is arranged in chronological order in the writings masterlist which is linked below👇 happy reading, my loves 🤍🩵

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Jeonghan is an island.

Not in the literal sense, but in the way he exists.

To him, being an island means standing steady amidst the tide, a constant presence when the waves threaten to overwhelm those around him.

Jeonghan has always seen himself that way— a safe haven for his loved ones, a place they could come to with their burdens and leave feeling just a little lighter.

He takes pride in this role, knowing that if someone he cares about feels lost, they can always find their way back to him. And when they’re ready to leave, to set sail again, he’ll let them go with a quiet smile, no questions asked. He exists as a constant— a refuge, a quiet place to rest before facing the storm again.

Jeonghan has always been that for the people he loves, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. When the members of SEVENTEEN come to him, seeking advice, a listening ear, or simply someone to sit with in silence, Jeonghan is there.

He listens patiently, his eyes fixed on theirs with a quiet intensity that tells them he is fully present. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes or fix their problems for them. Instead, he allows them to speak, unraveling their worries, frustrations, and fears as he holds space for them.

More often than not, the members leave those moments with him feeling lighter. They walk away with the weight of their worries softened, bolstered by his quiet reassurances or the practical wisdom he dispenses so naturally.

In their world of relentless schedules and pressure, Jeonghan is their counselor, their confidant, their steady shore.

But no one seeks him out more than Luna.

For as long as Jeonghan could remember, Luna had always gravitated toward him in times of need.

Out of thirteen members, she could have turned to anyone. Each of them was capable in their own way— each a pillar of strength, kindness, and understanding. And yet, time and time again, Luna came to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t because he was the most understanding or the most overtly comforting. It wasn’t because he had all the answers. It was simply because Jeonghan knew how to listen.

He listened in a way that made you feel seen.

Truly seen.

Luna would come to him during her moments of doubt, her voice cracking under the weight of frustration or pain. Sometimes, she would rant about the pressures of their industry, her words tumbling out in rapid succession as she paced the room with clenched fists. Other times, she would sit quietly, her eyes filled with unshed tears, as she shared her fears, her insecurities, and the thoughts that kept her awake at night.

And Jeonghan— he would just listen.

He never judged. Never interrupted. He let her speak until her voice grew hoarse or until she could no longer hold back her tears.

On some occasions, Luna didn’t want advice; she just needed someone to bear witness to her pain, and Jeonghan respected that.

When she didn’t need solutions, he didn’t offer any. He simply sat there, unwavering, his presence a balm to her raw emotions.

On other occasions, Luna would fall apart completely, her sobs breaking through the walls she worked so hard to build. And Jeonghan would be there, his arms wrapping around her as she cried into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. He’d rest his chin on her head, murmuring soft reassurances or nothing at all, letting her release everything she had bottled up inside. He would hold her until her tears subsided and her breathing evened out, and even then, he wouldn’t let go until she was ready.

Sometimes, when the tears had stopped, Luna would stay in his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Those moments would stick with him long after she left, her gratitude settling in his chest like a warm, lingering weight.

Jeonghan never failed her.

Not once.

Whenever Luna needed him— whether it was for advice, for a hug, or simply for a quiet moment of understanding— he was there, always.

And for him, that was enough. To be her constant, her refuge, her island.

It was a privilege Jeonghan remembered to never take for granted.

He also remembered how Luna had been the first person to offer herself to be his island when he needed it most.

It was years ago, back when they were merely trainees, their dreams raw and fragile, and their bodies pushed to the brink of exhaustion day after day. He was seventeen then, and she was just sixteen, both of them barely holding it together under the immense weight of expectations.

Yet somehow, amidst the chaos of it all, they had found each other.

It was late at night, the kind of late where the world was quiet, and even Seoul seemed to pause and take a breath.

The two of them sat by the Han River, tucked away in a secluded corner where no one would find them. The air was cool but not biting, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of water and earth. The river stretched out before them, dark and glimmering under the moonlight, its surface rippling faintly with the movement of the current. Above them, the sky was a deep navy, scattered with stars that peeked through the haze of city lights.

It was peaceful, the kind of peace that allowed them to simply exist without pretense.

Jeonghan had leaned back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him, watching the water shimmer. Luna sat cross-legged beside him, her chin resting on her knees, her face illuminated by the soft silver glow of the moon. She looked so serene, as if the weight she carried every day had been momentarily lifted, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride that maybe, just maybe, he had helped with that.

They had been talking for hours, their conversation meandering between dreams and struggles, fears and hopes. Luna had shared her frustrations— the grueling hours of practice, the aching muscles that never seemed to heal, the pressure to prove herself in a room full of talent. She had spoken about her fear of failure, of being left behind, and Jeonghan had listened quietly, nodding when appropriate, offering a few words of comfort when needed.

And then, when she had finally fallen silent, Jeonghan had spoken softly, his voice carrying the kind of weight that came from someone who understood exactly what she was going through.

“Nana-ya,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the river, “if it ever gets too much… you can come to me, you know? Just like this.”

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and curious.

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice firm but gentle. “If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, if you just need a break… I’ll be your island. A place to rest.”

Luna blinked at him, her expression softening as his words sank in. “An island?” she repeated, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replied, sitting up now and turning to face her. “An island. Somewhere you can come to when you need to escape. No judgment, no pressure. You can tell me all your worries or you can just… rest. And when you’re ready, you can leave and come back whenever you want.”

Luna looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to memorize every detail. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her smile widening.

“But what about you?”

Jeonghan frowned, confused. “What about me?”

Luna’s gaze didn’t waver. “Who’s going to be your island, Hannie?”

The question caught him off guard.

No one had ever asked him that before.

Jeonghan stared at her, his lips parting slightly as he struggled to find an answer. But before he could say anything, Luna leaned closer, her voice soft but certain.

“I can be your island, Hannie.”

Jeonghan froze, his heart skipping a beat as he stared at her.

Luna was looking at him with such earnestness, her smile so warm and genuine that it made his chest ache. The moonlight framed her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw, the faint blush on her cheeks, and the gentle sparkle in her eyes. She looked like a dream, so achingly beautiful that it took everything in him not to reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face. The moonlight softened her features, illuminating her skin with a silver glow, and he found himself thinking that she had never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment of quiet contemplation.

In that moment, seventeen-year-old Jeonghan knew.

He had known since the first time he saw her that he had a crush on her— how could he not? Every trainee did.

But now, as she sat there offering herself to him in a way no one else ever had, he realized it was so much more than a crush. It was something deeper, something that made his heart feel too big for his chest and his thoughts spiral in directions he couldn’t control.

And yet, he shook his head mentally, pushing the thought away before it could consume him. Instead, he let a teasing smile curl on his lips.

“Island, huh?” he said, his tone light and playful. “You’re going to have to come up with a new term, Nana-ya. Island is mine. I’m trademarking it.”

Luna rolled her eyes, her laugh soft but genuine. “Alright, fine,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’ll think of something else.”

They chuckled together, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank. Slowly, their laughter faded, leaving behind a comfortable silence that felt as natural as breathing.

Luna tilted her head back, her gaze fixed on the moon hanging high above them, its pale light casting a soft glow over the world.

Jeonghan, however, didn’t look at the moon.

He couldn’t.

Because the moon was sitting right next to him.

Jeonghan let the comfortable silence stretch between them.

The sound of the river’s quiet ripples filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of the city. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Han?”

Her voice broke the silence, soft but deliberate.

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his head tilting slightly toward her.

“You know what I’m named after, right?” she asked, finally turning to face him.

Jeonghan nodded without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “The moon.”

Luna’s grin widened as she nodded in return, impressed by his certainty. Of course, he remembered— she had told him once, during one of their late-night conversations in the practice room, how her mother had chosen her name because of her fascination with the moon.

“My mom is weirdly obsessed with the moon,” Luna chuckled, turning back to gaze at it. Her voice was light, but there was a warmth to it, a fondness that Jeonghan could hear clearly.

Jeonghan stayed quiet, watching her from behind. He didn’t interrupt; he knew she was building toward something.

“She used to tell me that when she was younger, she’d talk to the moon about her worries and her problems.

“Talk to it?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with curiosity but devoid of judgment.

“Not out loud,” Luna explained, gesturing with her hands as if trying to clarify. “More like… mentally, you know? Just looking up at it and mentally speaking to it. Does that make sense?”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched upward, his gaze never leaving her animated expression as she spoke. “It does,” he said simply, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Her heart speaks to it.”

Luna paused, her hands falling to her lap as she turned to look at him. Her wide eyes shimmered with surprise, as if she hadn’t expected him to understand so easily.

Most people laughed or dismissed the story as strange, but not Jeonghan.

Never Jeonghan. He always understood.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. She smiled, small and appreciative, and for a moment, she felt her heart skip a beat. Then, as if shaking herself out of her thoughts, she laughed lightly. “Anyway, sometimes I like to do that too. Just stare at the moon and… mentally talk to it. It’s comforting. So maybe you can do that too.”

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. “Talk to the moon?” he mused, his tone teasing but thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Luna nodded, her smile growing.

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Jeonghan continued to admire her in quiet fascination, while Luna seemed lost in her own world, her gaze fixed on the moon above.

Then she giggled, her laughter light and airy, breaking the stillness. “There are even stories and myths about the man in the moon,” she said with a smirk, turning to face him.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “The man in the moon? You mean the little boy fishing?”

Luna blinked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.

It took her a moment before realization dawned, and she burst out laughing. “That’s the ‘DreamWorks’ intro! Not that!”

Jeonghan smirked at her, his expression playful. “No? You and your mom aren’t talking to a little boy fishing in the moon?”

Luna scrunched her nose at him, pretending to pout as she glared. But her mock annoyance quickly melted into giggles. “No, silly,” she said, rolling her eyes as she shifted closer, lying down beside him. She rested her head against his outstretched arm, her body relaxing into his warmth.

She pointed toward the moon, her finger tracing invisible patterns in the sky. “They call it ‘the man in the moon’ because sometimes, if you look closely, it looks like it has a face. See?”

Jeonghan followed the direction of her finger, his eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on the craters. “Hmm,” he said after a moment. “It does.”

“See?” Luna said again, her voice tinged with pride. She turned to him with a triumphant smile. “So instead of an island, you can talk to the moon.”

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as they met hers, a small smile playing on his lips. “I already do talk to my moon.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her head tilting in confusion. “Your moon?” she echoed. “You do? What do you tell it?”

“You tell me,” Jeonghan said, his voice lowering ever so slightly. He finally looked down at her, their faces inches apart, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re the only moon I talk to.”

Luna’s breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as his words settled in, her heart thudding against her ribcage. But she didn’t say anything, her lips curving into a soft smile instead.

That moment of silence carried a weight to it, one filled with unspoken understanding.

And from then on, Jeonghan’s favorite nickname for her was born.

His moon.

His pretty moon.

From the moment under the moonlight at Han River, Jeonghan and Luna had unknowingly started a tradition— one that became their sanctuary amidst the chaos of their lives.

It began innocently, born from that night when a seventeen-year-old Jeonghan and a sixteen-year-old Luna shared their hearts under the stars.

Whenever the weight of their training bore down on them, they’d find themselves wandering back to that secluded spot by the Han River. It became their unspoken agreement: no matter how tired, how frustrated, or how uncertain they felt about their futures, they’d sit side by side and talk.

They’d talk about everything and nothing.

The worries that festered in their minds, the dreams that seemed just out of reach, the frustrations of not being good enough in their own eyes. Sometimes they’d rant, voices loud and passionate, the river carrying their words away like an invisible confidant. Other times, they’d fall into contemplative silences, punctuated only by the sounds of water lapping at the shore or the rustling of trees in the night breeze.

Even after debuting and becoming idols, Jeonghan and Luna fought to keep this tradition alive.

Their once-frequent visits to Han River dwindled as schedules filled with practices, performances, and public appearances.

But they found ways to adapt.

Instead of sitting by the river, they’d sit on the floor of one of their apartments, cups of tea— or sometimes wine— cradled in their hands as they leaned against the sofa, talking until the early hours of the morning.

When their schedules took them abroad, hotel rooms became their new haven. No matter where they were, Jeonghan and Luna made time for each other when they needed it most.

But everything changed almost a year ago.

Jeonghan hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on those late-night talks until they were gone. He hadn’t understood how much Luna’s quiet wisdom and steady presence meant to him until he lost it.

The last time they had one of their late-night conversations was a night that Jeonghan replayed in his mind more often than he cared to admit.

It had started like all the others— a quiet moment after a long day, a bottle of wine between them, and an unspoken understanding that they were each other’s safe space. But that night had taken an unexpected turn when Luna, cheeks flushed and words slightly slurred, had confessed her feelings for him.

“You make me feel things,” she had said, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan had been stunned, caught completely off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But the sincerity in her eyes, the vulnerability in her expression, made him painfully aware of the weight of his next words.

He had declined her feelings a few days after— not out of malice, but because he was scared, it was risky. Also because he wasn’t sure he could be what she deserved at that moment. Before he had the opportunity to tell her as much, Luna brushed it off and dashed out the elevator, his heart aching at the way her face fell.

Since then, everything between them had changed.

The awkwardness was subtle at first, but it grew with time. Their once-effortless conversations became stilted, filled with polite exchanges that lacked their usual warmth. When they were alone, the silences between them were no longer comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

Even in group settings, Jeonghan felt the shift. Luna would exchange a few words with him here and there, but she gravitated toward Mingyu more and more.

It hadn’t taken Jeonghan long to notice the way Mingyu had become Luna’s confidant. He saw how Mingyu stayed by her side, offering her the support that Jeonghan no longer could. And while a part of him was relieved that she had someone to lean on, another part of him couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into his chest whenever he saw them together.

So, Jeonghan gave her the space she seemed to want. He told himself it was for the best, that she deserved to heal in her own way and in her own time. He respected her boundaries, even though it meant losing the one person who had always been his island… his moon.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, the memories of those late-night talks played in his mind like scenes from a movie. He could still hear the sound of her laughter, see the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she was passionate about.

He could still feel the comfort of her presence, the way she always knew what to say to ease his mind.

And Jeonghan missed her.

He missed his moon.

Jeonghan sat on his couch, the glow from the city lights spilling through the window casting faint patterns across his living room. His mind churned endlessly, cycling through the same thoughts that had been haunting him for months now.

No matter how much he tried to shake them off, they persisted. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair.

His gaze drifted to the moonlit sky outside, and without realizing it, his mind wandered back to that first late-night talk at the Han River with Luna.

It was so many years ago, yet the memory was so vivid it felt like it had happened yesterday. He remembered the way the moonlight reflected on the water, how their quiet voices had melded with the soft sound of the current. He could almost hear her voice again, playful yet serious, telling him to talk to the moon when he’s struggling.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. If he was honest, he’d never taken her advice— not because he thought it was foolish, but because he never needed to.

Why talk to the moon when he’d always had her?

Whenever he was drowning in worries or self-doubt, Luna had been his island. His anchor. His moon. The one person who understood him without him having to explain.

But now, with a gulf between them that felt impossible to cross, her advice suddenly didn’t seem so silly.

So for the past few months Jeonghan has been looking up at the moon, watching it as he mentally cried his heart out.

Tonight was no different. But tonight something was pulling him to talk to the moon somewhere else.

With that, Jeonghan stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and reached for his car keys on the counter. His decision felt impulsive but right, like this was exactly what he needed to do.

Han River, the sanctuary they had shared so many times. But this time, he’d be going alone.

As he stepped into the hallway, the familiar sound of a door closing echoed from just beside his own. He froze, the keys in his hand jangling softly, and turned his head toward the apartment next to his. His breath hitched as Luna emerged, bundled in an oversized jacket, her own car keys clutched in her hand. She was locking her door, her movements deliberate yet distracted.

When Luna finally looked up, her gaze met his, and they both froze.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. It was as if time had slowed, the hallway shrinking to just the two of them.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other earlier that day— they’d been side by side for a team photoshoot, exchanging polite but distant words.

Yet, this moment felt different.

Charged.

Jeonghan’s first thought was that the universe must have grown tired of watching them avoid each other.

As cliché as it was— there was no other explanation.

This had to be fate’s way of giving them a nudge— a forceful push, really.

Luna blinked, breaking the spell, but her surprise was evident. Jeonghan noticed the way her fingers tightened briefly on her keys, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Instead, they just stared at each other, a strange understanding passing between them.

Because in that instant, they both knew.

They didn’t need to ask where the other was going. They already knew the answer.

Han River.

Luna was the first to glance away, her cheeks faintly pink under the hallway’s dim lighting. She shifted her weight awkwardly, clutching her keys tighter as if that would ground her.

Jeonghan, however, stayed rooted, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. After a beat of silence, he extended his hand toward her.

“Come on,” he said softly, his voice low but steady.

Luna’s eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, searching for something in his expression. His gaze was calm, open, almost expectant. After a pause that felt much longer than it really was, she reached out and slid her hand into his. Her fingers were cold against his warmth, and something unspoken passed between them as Jeonghan gently guided her toward the elevator.

The ride down was quiet. Not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either. It was a silence that carried acceptance— an understanding that neither of them could put into words just yet.

The elevator’s soft hum filled the space as they stood side by side, their hands still loosely linked. Jeonghan glanced at their joined hands briefly before looking ahead, lost in thought.

It was ironic, he thought, how the last time they were in this elevator alone, everything had changed.

Almost a year ago, Luna had laid her heart bare, only for him to gently decline.

That night had been a turning point, one that neither of them could ignore, no matter how much they tried to move on. And now, here they were again, in the same space but under entirely different circumstances.

Jeonghan didn’t miss the symmetry of it, nor the weight of what tonight could mean.

For both of them, this was the night to finally talk. To lay everything out in the open. It was either the start of mending what had been broken or the final thread that would unravel everything completely.

Jeonghan silently hoped— prayed— it would be the former.

He didn’t look at Luna, but he could feel her presence beside him, her quiet breathing grounding him.

And though neither of them spoke, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

Soon Jeonghan was driving them to Han River.

The car ride was steeped in silence, the kind that carried its own weight yet wasn’t entirely unbearable. Jeonghan kept his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, while Luna sat in the passenger seat, her head resting lightly against the window.

The hum of the engine filled the space, accompanied by the soft tunes of the radio playing in the background. The music— a blend of mellow piano and soft vocals— felt like a balm, easing the tension between them, though neither of them acknowledged it.

The thirty-minute drive stretched on, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Jeonghan occasionally glanced at Luna from the corner of his eye, noting how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to falter before they could form. So instead, he let the music fill the gaps, hoping it was enough to make the quiet less suffocating.

When they finally arrived at the Han River, Jeonghan pulled into their usual spot. It was secluded, a little pocket of peace away from the bustling city— a place that had become theirs over the years. He turned off the car and stepped out, the crisp night air biting at his skin.

Without a word, he walked to the passenger side and opened her door. Luna blinked up at him, momentarily startled, but she accepted his silent gesture, stepping out into the cool night.

From then on it was like clockwork.

Jeonghan made his way to the trunk, where he pulled out a blanket. It was old and slightly worn but soft, and it had lived in his car for years —just for nights like this. Draping it over one arm, he turned back to Luna, intertwining his fingers with hers without hesitation. Her hand felt cold in his, but she didn’t pull away. Gently, he guided her down the familiar path to their secluded spot by the riverbank.

Once they reached the spot, Jeonghan spread the blanket out on the grass, smoothing it down with deliberate care.

They both sat down, the sound of the river lapping softly against the shore filling the space between them. Overhead, the sky was clear, stars scattered like tiny diamonds, and the moon hung low and luminous, casting its glow over the water.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, side by side, watching the river and the sky in a silence that felt heavier than the one in the car.

Finally, Jeonghan broke it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here together,” he said, his voice low but carrying over the stillness of the night. He glanced sideways at her. “You still come here often?”

Luna turned to him, slightly taken aback by his casual tone. She studied his profile for a moment before answering. “Not as much lately,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “It hasn’t felt… the same.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on the river. “Yeah. I know.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips as a memory surfaced. He chuckled lightly, the sound breaking through the somber air. “Remember the last time? You were mad at me because I forgot your coffee order, and you swore you’d never trust me with your drinks again.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. That smile sent a jolt straight to Jeonghan’s heart. She hadn’t smiled at him like that in so long. And he had made it happen. He had.

“You brought me iced coffee in the middle of winter, Han,” she replied dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw it at you.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his smile widening as he looked at her. “Right. And then you made me drink it as punishment.”

“I did,” she said with a small nod, her gaze drifting back to the moon.

A brief silence fell over them again, but this one felt different. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it carried the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, the grass crunching softly beneath him, and his tone grew quieter when he spoke again.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me,” he admitted, his eyes trained on her face now.

Luna sighed softly, her shoulders rising and falling. “I almost didn’t.”

Her words made his chest tighten, but he turned to face her fully. “I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ve missed you. I missed us… Jiyeon-ah, I—”

“Please,” Luna interrupted with a soft sigh, shaking her head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Jeonghan frowned slightly, his brows drawing together. “No, you’re right,” he said after a moment, his tone steady. “I don’t have to apologize… I need to apologize.”

He met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For that night… for lying that night.”

Luna looked away before he could continue, her voice low as she said, “Are you sorry because you hurt me, or is it because you don’t feel the same about me?” Her voice softened even further, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued. “Han, I forgave you already that night in the elevator. I was hurt, yes, but I understood. I just needed space. I never blamed you for not liking—”

“Ya… Bae Jiyeon, stop. Just stop.” Jeonghan’s voice was firm now, his tone cutting her off sharply. He turned to her fully, his eyes blazing with frustration and something else—something deeper. “First of all, stop saying I don’t like you. That’s not true. Not even in the slightest. And stop it with the calm, good girl act you force yourself to be. I know you more than anyone. I need you to be angry. Be angry at me. Yell at me. Fuck, slap me in the face for hurting you and making you cry! Don’t pretend you’re okay, because I know damn well you’re not!”

Luna’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with his for more than a few seconds, truly and deeply looking at him for the first time since they had caught each other outside their apartments earlier. Her eyes were red, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

Jeonghan read her like an open book, every emotion she had tried so desperately to hide laid bare before him. And he knew— he knew— that she was lying to herself, trying to shove everything under the rug and pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did.

And it was hurting her.

Jeonghan’s heart clenched as he watched her, knowing this moment was long overdue.

Luna had been bottling up her pain for far too long.

She needed to let it out— now.

Luna’s hands trembled as she clenched them into fists at her sides, her entire body taut with the emotions she had suppressed for so long. For a brief moment, Jeonghan thought she might hold it in again, that she’d swallow the words she desperately needed to say and give him the same composed facade she always wore.

But then, her lips parted, and the dam broke.

“You want me mad?” Luna’s voice came out sharp, her tone cutting through the stillness like a blade. “You want me to scream and cry? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, trembling slightly as her emotions began spilling out. “What do you want me to say, huh, Jeonghan? Do you want me to tell you how you’ve had me wrapped around your stupid finger since the fucking beginning?”

Jeonghan’s breath caught, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“Do you want me to tell you how the second you introduced yourself to me, I knew— I knew— that I needed you in my life? How every single night, I beat myself up trying to forget about my feelings for you because I couldn’t risk it? I couldn’t risk our friendship, the group, our careers, the guys’ careers! Do you want me to tell you how my heart hurts— no, how it shatters— every time you get linked with someone else, rumored with women you barely even know? And do you know what’s worse? I have no right to feel that way! None! Yet… fuck! I still do!”

Her voice cracked, but she pushed forward, her words gaining momentum as tears began to glisten in her eyes.

“Do you want to know how I cried to my mom on the phone, begging her to help me like I was a child because my heart wouldn’t stop pounding after you kissed me on the cheek for the first time when we were trainees? A stupid, innocent kiss! It was nothing to you, but it meant everything to me!”

Jeonghan’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest, guilt twisting like a knife as her voice started to tremble.

“Do you want me to tell you how much you make me feel? How much I love the way you make me feel so special, so loved, so pretty? And how much I hate it? How much I hate how I love it, because it’s you! It you, Yoon Jeonghan! It’s you who makes me feel like that, and it’s you who made me feel like I was nothing that night!”

Her voice broke, and the tears finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously, but it was no use— they just kept coming.

“I cried myself to sleep on the floor of my apartment after you rejected me,” she admitted, her voice now raw and unsteady, her breath hitching between words. “The floor, Jeonghan. I couldn’t even make it to my bed because I thought I’d suffocate under the weight of it all.”

Jeonghan’s throat tightened, his hands curling into fists in his lap as he fought the urge to reach out to her, to stop the flood of her pain even though he knew she needed this.

“And do you want to know the worst part?” Luna’s voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with the weight of her confession. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes glistening with tears that reflected the moonlight.

“I hate how much I love you.” Her voice broke completely, and she sobbed openly now, the sound raw and anguished. “I hate it, Jeonghan. I hate how much I love you, and I hate how much it hurts to love you.”

Jeonghan couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Jiyeon—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice rising again despite her tears. “You wanted this, right? You told me to let it out, so here it is! Here’s the truth, Yoon Jeonghan! I love you, and I hate you for making me love you this much! So much that it physically hurts me! Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you—”

Before she could finish, Jeonghan surged forward, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame and pulling her tightly into his chest.

Luna struggled against him, her fists pounding weakly against his chest as she sobbed, her frustration spilling over in the form of muffled cries and anger. “Let go of me! Let me go, Jeonghan!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t want— just let me—”

“No,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice low but steady. He held her tighter, refusing to let her go no matter how much she fought him. “I’m not letting you go, Bae Jiyeon. Not now. Not ever.”

Luna’s struggles slowed, her fists unclenching as she slumped against him, her sobs shaking her entire body. “I hate you. I hate how much I love you,” she whispered brokenly, her words muffled against his chest.

Jeonghan squeezed his eyes shut, his chin resting lightly atop her head as he struggled to keep his composure. His own voice trembled when he spoke, filled with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I’m sorry, my moon. I’m so sorry.”

Luna’s cries quieted into broken hiccups as her face remained buried in Jeonghan’s chest, her tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of her pain finally found its release. Her fists, now slack against his shirt, clutched weakly at the fabric as her shoulders trembled. She mumbled against him, her voice muffled yet still laden with hurt.

“You made me feel like I was stupid for even trying,” she whispered, her words cracking under the weight of her emotions. Her chest heaved as she struggled to steady her breath, but her next words came out shakier, weaker. “Like I was crazy for thinking… for hoping…”

A sharp hiccup cut her off, and she dissolved into tears again. Jeonghan’s hand instinctively cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to soothe her. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with guilt and sorrow, before murmuring gently, “I know. I know, angel. And I hate myself for it.”

His voice wavered, but he kept his tone steady for her. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with how I felt—”

Before he could finish, Luna abruptly pushed herself out of his grip, her hands pressing against his chest until she could create enough distance between them. Her eyes met his, wide and glistening with tears, her cheeks flushed from crying. The vulnerability in her gaze was quickly overtaken by anger, sharp and raw.

“How you felt?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Han, this wasn’t just about you. It’s about me too—about us. Do you even know what it’s like to pour your heart out to someone you’ve loved for years only to have them look at you like it’s all a mistake?”

Her words hit Jeonghan like a slap, and he instinctively shook his head, the motion frantic as if it could erase the idea entirely. “No,” he said quickly, his voice firm yet pleading. “No, Jiyeon. You were never a mistake. I need you to believe that. Please.”

Luna’s lips quivered, her glare unwavering despite the fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes.

Jeonghan took a deep breath, his own voice trembling as he continued. “I was an idiot. I am an idiot,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging as the truth spilled out of him like a confession. “I… I was scared because you mean so much to me. I told myself it would ruin everything if we tried and failed. I kept convincing myself it was better this way, safer, for both of us. I told myself all these excuses why it wouldn’t work— why I shouldn’t feel the way I feel. But they were just that… excuses. I was a coward, okay? I let my fear control me. And because of that, I hurt you. I hurt us.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked at her with desperate, searching eyes, as if silently begging her to understand.

Luna stared at him for a long moment, her expression etched with a mixture of disbelief and pain. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think it didn’t terrify me too?”

Jeonghan froze, his breath hitching as she spoke, her voice growing stronger with each word.

“But I still chose to try. Yes I was drunk when i confessed but I never denied it afterwards. I could’ve acted like I didn’t remember what I said but I didn’t,” she continued, her voice breaking again as tears spilled over her lashes. “Because… because loving you felt worth the risk.”

Jeonghan felt his heart shatter at her words, the weight of her pain crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her wet cheeks as he tried to catch the tears that kept falling.

“You’re braver than me,” he said softly, his voice full of admiration and regret. “You always have been.”

Luna shook her head furiously, her chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. Her hands came up to grip his wrists as if to push him away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I don’t feel brave, Hannie,” she hiccuped, her voice barely audible. “I feel broken.”

Her words tore through Jeonghan like a knife, and he could feel his composure slipping as she finished, her voice raw and trembling.

“You broke me,” she said, her lips quivering as another tear slid down her cheek. “And it hurts.”

Jeonghan froze as her trembling words struck him like a blow. Her tear-streaked face, her voice breaking with pain— every part of her screamed of the hurt he’d caused, and it was unbearable.

Jeonghan shook his head, his voice low but steady, desperate to reach her. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it if you’ll let me,” he said, his hands firm yet gentle on her arms. “I’ll undo all the words that hurt you. Just tell me how.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice sharp and trembling as she shot back, “What good are words when they always just get in our way, Han?”

Her challenge hung in the air, raw and heavy, but Jeonghan didn’t falter. His brows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into hers, soft yet resolute.

“Because words matter,” he countered firmly, his voice calm and measured. “Words are what brought us to this moment. I said the wrong ones before, but I won’t stop trying until I say the right ones. I can’t give up, Bae Jiyeon. Not on you.”

Her tears continued to fall, and Jeonghan reached forward, brushing the strands of hair that clung to her damp cheeks. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly, as though she were something fragile and sacred. His hands found her face, cradling it, urging her to look up at him even as her gaze flickered uncertainly.

“Show me, my moon,” he whispered, his voice quiet yet pleading, the nickname like a soft caress. “Show me where I hurt you so that I can love you there the most.”

The words were spoken with such raw sincerity, such desperation, that they seemed to wrap around Luna’s heart and squeeze. She released a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed as a tear slipped free and traced a path down her cheek.

Her heart— shattered as it was— still managed to beat for him.

It always had.

It always would.

And that scared her more than anything.

“You don’t get to just say that now,” Luna said shakily, her voice cracking as she shook her head, trying to pull away but finding herself unable to. “You don’t get to show up and say everything I’ve been dying to hear after you crushed me.”

Her walls were still up, fragile but standing, and Jeonghan could see her fear, her need to protect herself. But he wasn’t going to let her go. Not this time.

“I told the moon about you, Jiyeonie,” he murmured softly, and the words made her freeze.

Luna let out a broken sob as her head dropped onto his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt. Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her close as she cried, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles.

“I told the moon about how I wanted to dedicate a song to you after I met you for the first time,” he continued, his voice trembling but unwavering. “I told the moon about how your laugh feels like the answer to every question I didn’t know I was asking. About how you hum to yourself when you think no one is listening, and it’s my favorite sound in the world.”

He gently pulled her head off his shoulder, his hands finding their way to her face again, cupping it as he cradled her, his thumbs brushing away her tears. Her red-rimmed eyes stared into his, her lips trembling as he spoke.

“I told the moon about the way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating. About how you never finish a cup of tea but insist on making it anyway because the ritual calms you. I told the moon how you bite your lip when you’re nervous and how it drives me crazy because I want to kiss you every time you do it.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over again as she listened, her heart simultaneously breaking and healing with every word.

“I told the moon about my regrets,” Jeonghan admitted, his voice cracking. “About every time I hurt you, every time I held back because I was too scared to face what I was feeling. I told the moon about how it’s just the hardest thing to love you but not know how. So I spent all my nights in the dark, afraid. Afraid because I tried to forget you, but these things— you— just don’t go away.”

His voice grew softer, more vulnerable. “I hate that you’re so perfect,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest, saddest smile. “So perfect for me… made for me.”

Luna closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears escaped, her hands coming up to grip his wrists, holding onto him as though she might crumble without the contact.

“The excuses I gave you… none of them mattered,” Jeonghan continued, his voice steadying as he poured his heart out. “Because the truth is, Nana-ya, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself.”

His hands slipped from her face to rest on her shoulders as he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that made her chest tighten. “I love the way you brighten every room you walk into. I love the way you care for the people around you, how you give so much of yourself even when you have nothing left to give. I love the way you see the world, how you find beauty in places no one else would even think to look.”

He paused, his gaze softening as he added, “I love you, Bae Jiyeon. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy, the beautiful. I love you more than words can ever say, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Luna’s tears fell freely now, her breath hitching as her hands clutched at his shirt, grounding herself in him. Her walls, the ones she’d fought so hard to keep up, began to crumble, piece by piece, under the weight of his love.

Jeonghan’s voice broke as he continued, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone like he was trying to erase the pain he had caused. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know the truth. I pushed you away because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t going to mess up. But the truth is… the thought of losing you terrified me more than anything else.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice trembling as she whispered, “And yet, you still let me go.”

Her eyes opened, glistening with unshed tears as she searched his face, her expression filled with a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, shaking his head almost frantically. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, okay? I thought I was protecting us, but all I did was hurt you. I can’t take that back, but I can promise you that I’ll never make that mistake again.”

She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging as though the weight of the past months bore down on her all at once. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I spent so much time these past couple of months convincing myself that maybe… maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

Jeonghan’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he stared at her, shaking his head with conviction. His voice was firm, urgent, as if he could will her to believe him. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that, Jiyeon-ah. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I was just too blind to see it in time.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly between his own as his voice softened but lost none of its determination. “Please… please don’t give up on us. Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I’m not going to hurt you again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Jiyeonie. I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll fight for us, for you, for our friendship. Just… just don’t shut me out.”

Luna’s fingers trembled as they wrapped around his wrist, her grip weak but steadying as she brought his hand down from her face and held it in her lap. Her voice was soft but resolute, her gaze piercing as she finally met his eyes. “You can’t just fix this overnight, Han. We can’t go back to how things were. If we’re going to try again… we need to fix our friendship first. We were friends first. We need to rebuild what broke before anything else.”

Her words hung in the air between them, weighted with truth and the hope of something new. Jeonghan nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he absorbed her words.

Despite the desperation in his heart to hold her close and never let go, he knew she was right.

“I know we can’t go back to the way we were,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “And I don’t want to go back. I want to move forward— with you. I’ll be better. We’ll be better. I’ll start wherever you need me to. As friends, as strangers— just tell me how to fix this. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. I’ll earn your trust back, your love, everything. Just… don’t give up on me.”

Luna exhaled a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as her gaze softened. “I’m not giving up on you. I never gave up on you. But this time, it’s going to be on my terms.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted, and he nodded without hesitation, his sincerity clear in every word he spoke. “Your terms, always. I’ll wait. I’ll work for it. Just… thank you for giving me the chance to make this right.”

Luna’s lips curved into a faint, tired smile, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she spoke, her voice lighter than before, though still tinged with lingering sadness. “Well, the heart wants what it wants.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, his expression one of reverence, like she was the moon and the stars shining down on them, lighting his path. “It does. And mine wants you. Always has, always will.”

He spoke the words with such quiet certainty, his gaze never wavering from hers.

In that moment, the air around them felt still, as though the universe itself had paused to bear witness to the weight of their emotions, the unspoken promises lingering in the space between their hearts.

Jeonghan gently pulled away from Luna, the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin. His lips curved into a teasing smile, the kind that used to infuriate her and had always held the power to disarm her. “I can’t wait to tell the little boy,” he said, his tone light and mischievous.

Luna blinked at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What little boy?” she asked, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and bewilderment.

“The little boy fishing on the moon. The man in the moon, remember?” Jeonghan replied, his grin widening as he referenced the conversation they’d had years ago at the Han River during one of their first late-night talks as trainees.

Luna’s jaw slackened slightly before she snapped it shut, shaking her head. “That’s not– He’s not–” She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging in mock defeat. “You’re an idiot.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and familiar, like a song she hadn’t realized she missed. “I know. We’ve been through this,” he said, the humor in his tone softening into affection as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She didn’t move away, didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment before she opened them again and met his gaze.

Despite the magnetic pull between them, the kind that had always existed and only seemed stronger now, they both knew the truth.

They couldn’t rush this, not yet.

The more mature parts of themselves— the ones hardened by heartbreak and regret— understood the importance of rebuilding the foundation of their relationship.

Their friendship was the cornerstone of everything they were to each other, and if they wanted to build something lasting, something unshakable, they had to fix what had been broken first.

Neither of them wanted to wait.

They wanted to dive into each other’s arms, to silence the ache with whispered promises and stolen kisses. But they respected the process, respected each other too much to risk repeating their mistakes.

They had taken the first step tonight, had opened the door to healing by airing their frustrations, their fears, and their truths.

Luna had cried until her chest ached, and Jeonghan had been there to hold her. Jeonghan had confessed his regrets, his love, his hopes, and Luna had listened, her presence steady even as her tears fell. They had yelled, voices raised as years of pent-up emotions spilled out, but even in their anger, there had been a yearning to understand.

They were in love.

That much was clear to both of them now.

But love alone wouldn’t be enough if they didn’t have a solid foundation to stand on.

So, Jeonghan promised to work for it, to make it worth it.

Luna promised to trust the process and let him prove himself.

Even so, in the quiet recesses of their hearts, they both knew that it was only a matter of time before the fire between them ignited even more, before the spark that had always been there became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t a question of if they would cross that line, but when.

And they both felt, deep down, that the moment would come soon.

The universe, it seemed, had been on their side all along.

The anxiety that had drowned Luna earlier in suffocating waves, the restlessness that had driven her to the Han River in search of solace, had carried her back to her island— Jeonghan.

And Jeonghan, who had sought to talk to the moon to share his frustrations and to make sense of the ache in his chest, had found himself drawn by gravity to his moon— Luna.

As they sat there in the stillness of the night, the city lights twinkling like distant stars, Jeonghan reached for her hand once more, and this time, she didn’t hesitate to take it. Their fingers intertwined, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the warmth in their joined hands was a promise.

Together, they would find their way.

They always do.

For the tides, ruled by the moon, carried Luna from the depths to the island of Jeonghan’s soul.

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[just-aake]

Widow’s Charm

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha finds herself falling for Tony’s new lab assistant and weapons technician.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 3322

Natasha walks down the hallway towards Tony’s lab, holding her widow bite gauntlets in her hand. Typically, she would have just sent them down to be repaired, but an unexpected mission came up which means she needs them fixed sooner rather than later. Reaching the entrance of the lab, the doors slide open for her as she enters.

“Hey Tony, can you fix–,” Natasha stops when she notices someone else working in the lab.

You look up from your work table at the new voice in the room and see the Black Widow staring at you curiously. You have been working at the Avenger’s Compound as the new weapons technician as well as Tony’s lab assistant for the past few months. 

Since then, you’ve met all of the other Avengers already except for the mysterious Black Widow, though you have repaired some of her equipment that she had sent down previously. 

Tony tells you that she prefers to keep to herself, which you can understand. You settled with the fact that you may never meet her in person, so it is a small shock to see her standing in front of you.

Putting down your tools, you wipe your hands on your apron and walk over to her. Extending your hand to her, you give her a polite smile as you introduce yourself.

“Hello, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m the new weapons technician and Mr. Stark’s assistant in the lab. How can I help, Ms. Romanoff?” 

A small surprised smile forms on Natasha’s face at your words. Intrigued to learn more about you, she raises her hand to yours in greeting.

“Hi, you can just call me Nata–.” 

“No, no, no!” A voice yells from down the halls outside of the lab.

Tony comes rushing into the lab, breathing heavily. Looking around frantically, his eyes widen at the two of you. He rushes over to you quickly, grabbing you by the shoulders, and pushing you away from Natasha and out into the hallway. 

“I need you to go get the thing from Pepper,” he tells you.

“What thing?” you ask in confusion as you turn back around to him.

He gives you a brief wave before pressing the button on the side, shutting the lab doors in your face.

For a moment, Tony remains standing by the door, tensed as he purposely avoid looking at Natasha. Then, in the next second, his entire body suddenly relaxes, and he moves casually over to his workstation. 

“FRIDAY, what’s the plan for today?” Tony asks.

“The parts for the new repulsors arrived today, sir,” the AI voice replies.

“Great, get those plans pulled up for me, will you?”

Natasha blinks at the lab doors as she tries to process what just happened. She turns to Tony, looking for an explanation.

“What the hell was that Tony?” she exclaims.

Tony looks at her with his eyebrows raised.

“What was what?”

“You just suddenly pushed Y/n out of the room.”

Tony's mouth presses into a tight line as he gives her a confused look. “Never heard of her. Was there somebody here FRIDAY?”

“No, sir.” 

Tony nods back at her with a satisfied look.

Crossing her arms, Natasha was about to argue when the lab doors opened up again. 

Pepper walks into the room towards Tony.

“Y/n said you told her to get a ‘thing’ from me?”

Tony lets out a groan as he hangs his head. Sighing, he gestures to Natasha.

“Y/n met Natasha.” 

Pepper lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Really, Tony? We talked about this. You can’t place all the blame on her.”

Natasha raises her hands to get their attention. “Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on?”

Pepper turns to her, a small apologetic look on her face.

“Tony thinks you are the reason why his assistants keep quitting.”

Natasha frowns at the accusation. “How is that my fault?”

Tony scoffs in disbelief. “FRIDAY, pull up the timeline.” 

A holographic screen pops up between them showing the past year with certain dates highlighted. Tony points to one of the earliest dates in the year. 

“Avery Grayson. She met you on her second day on the job. A week later she asks you out but you decline. She turns in her resignation the following week.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows at the information.

“That doesn’t prove—“ 

Tony interrupts her, “Quinn Turner. She confesses to you a month after your first interaction. Gets turned down too and then quits three days later.”

Tony brings up the two most recent dates.

“Same thing with Riley and Harper. It’s a pattern. They meet you, fall for you, get rejected, and then quit.”

Natasha looks over at Pepper, silently asking if he was serious. In response, Pepper gives her a resigned nod as she rubs her head tiredly.

Tony gets her attention when he points at her accusingly.

“Do you know how hard it is to find competent people who know how to handle this level of equipment?”

Natasha lets out a huff of disbelief, crossing her arms. She remembers his previous assistants. To be honest, most of her interactions with them were completely professional. She didn’t get close to any of them personally or showed any romantic interest, which made each of the confessions surprising to her. 

Still, this doesn’t explain what he was trying to do with you. She raises her eyebrow at him.

“So your plan was to what? Hide your new assistant from me forever?”

“Not forever. Just until I can find someone for her so that she doesn’t fall for you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at his ridiculousness. Focusing back on her original intention, she places her widow bite gauntlets on the work table.

“Can you just fix these for me? I have a mission in a few hours.”

“Fine, but you stay away from my assistant,” he warns.

Natasha heads toward the exit and waves her hand, dismissing his words. It’s not like she intends to make you fall for her, but she has to admit that she is interested to learn more about you. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You look up from your sketches at the sound of the lab door opening and see the Black Widow stroll into the room. You give her a smile in greeting.

“Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff. Are you looking for Mr. Stark?”

She walks over to your workspace, leaning slightly against the table as she looks at you.

“Actually, I was coming to see you, and you can just call me Natasha. We got interrupted the last time we met.”

Nodding your head, you laugh softly at the memory.

“Pepper explained to me what that was about.” You give her a teasing suspicious look. “So are you here to make me fall for you?”

Natasha gives you an amused smile. Most people don’t usually get comfortable around her so quickly. 

“Only if you want to,” she says nonchalantly.

You chuckle at her response.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be hearing a confession from me soon. I like my job here.” 

Natasha feels a tinge of disappointment at your words, her smile dropping slightly. You don’t notice though since your attention had drifted to the widow bite gauntlets on her wrists.

“Speaking of, did you want me to take a look at that?” You can see that there was some damage from a fight probably during her recent mission.

Glancing down, Natasha shrugs. “I can do it later myself.”

“Well, that explains why I don’t see your stuff across my desk that often.” You raise your hand out to her anyway.

She stares at you curiously before slowly placing her hand in yours.

You let out a small laugh at her action. “This is nice, but I actually want the gauntlets.” You hold her hand gently in yours before turning it around to reach the clasp on the weapon.

Natasha tilts her head as she observes you. You were focused but gentle as you worked, and you didn’t show any signs that you were intimidated by who she was. In fact, you were pretty cute as you scrunch your face in concentration. She decides to tease you a little.

“You know, I don’t usually let people take things off my body until at least the second date.”

You remove the second gauntlet from her other wrist with a start before you see the teasing smirk on her face. You let out a small huff before refocusing your attention on your table.

“I see what Mr. Stark means when he said you were charming.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what else did he tell you about me?”

“That you didn’t like meeting new people, though now I think that may have been a lie.”

Natasha shrugs before leaning in a little closer to you.

“It’s sort of true. I just prefer to meet people that I’m interested in.”

You turn away from her to hide the smile on your face, pretending to look for some tools. 

The lab doors slide open as Tony walks in while reading the tablet in his hand. Looking up, he sighs sadly when he sees Natasha next to you.

“Did she get to you already?”

You give him a reassuring look. “No confessions from me. Natasha just needed some things fixed.”

Tony stares at the two of you doubtfully before pointing to Natasha.

“Don’t you have reports to do or something?”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha stands to leave. She turns to you with a soft smile.

“I’ll come visit more often now that I know you exist.”

You bite your lips to hide your smile as you watch her leave. 

As Natasha exits the lab, she hears Tony’s voice call out.

“FRIDAY, can you restrict her access to the lab?”

“I’m afraid Ms. Potts has already denied that request, sir.”

Natasha smirks at the AI response. She should get something for Pepper later as thanks.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As she said, over the following weeks, Natasha visits you often in the lab. Sometimes with some equipment that needed to be fixed. Other times just to talk. Later, when she finds out that you usually eat your lunch in the lab, she would also join you if she had the time. 

You look up when you hear the doors open, already knowing who to expect. Natasha walks in, waving the take-out bag in her hands.

You groan in relief at the sight of her. “You are a lifesaver.” 

You stand and grab the food from her eagerly before moving it to an area where the two of you can eat.

Natasha sits on the edge of your work table as she watches you set out the food.

“Well, I know how you get absorbed into your work and forget to eat,” she tells you knowingly.

Her eyes glance at the papers on your desk that you were previously working on. Most of them had rough sketches of designs for some of the equipment of the other Avengers. Her name on one paper catches her attention. Picking it up, Natasha examines the details curiously. 

At the sudden silence, you glance up at her. You do a double take when you realize what she was looking at.

Over time, as you worked on her equipment, you’ve noticed that her current suit’s belt doesn’t hold much ammo or gadgets, so you had sketched some ideas that you had for her.

“That’s just some ideas of some upgrades that I had. It’s not really anything worth looking at.” 

Natasha shakes her head in disagreement before handing the paper back to you.

“I like it. I’m sure Tony will get you the parts that you would need if you want to work on it.”

“Really?” you ask her, astonished.

She nods at you reassuringly before pushing you back towards the food.

“We can discuss it later, but first, let’s eat.”

A few weeks later, you completed your first prototype, and you were excited to show Natasha and test it out.

Natasha admires the new belt on the table. It was still slim and compact, but she can see where you had added extra slots for her weapons. You also included her signature red symbol on the buckle.

You were practically buzzing with excitement.

“I just need to see if there needs to be any more adjustments with the sizing.”

Without thinking, you grab her hand to pull her closer to you. You move quickly as you remove her current belt. Taking the new belt, your hands wrap around her waist as you grab one end before bringing it to her front and snapping it into place. You fidget with the belt, checking for any snags or looseness, totally absorbed in your work. 

Natasha’s initial surprised expression melts into an amused and fond look on her face as she watches you. You were adorable when you concentrated on your work, and honestly, she’s not sure how much longer she can hold in her feelings for you.

After performing your final checks and detailing little changes that needed to be adjusted, you suddenly froze when you realized Natasha hadn’t said a word since you started. 

Your eyes widened, mortified when you see your current position. Your body had moved closer to Natasha’s when you were making adjustments. One of your hands was still placed atop the belt while the other was resting against her stomach, and you could feel her toned body underneath your hand. You swallow nervously as you look up at her.

She tilts her head at you as you continue to stare at her.

“Everything okay?”

The closeness between your bodies was making it hard for you to think. Eventually, you were able to get your brain to function enough to respond.

“Yeah…all good.” You unconsciously lick your lips out of embarrassment.

You see Natasha's eyes flick down to your mouth at the action, and you feel your face heat up even more. You should definitely step away from her now. As you go to move, Natasha’s next words causes you to stop in surprise.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

Your eyes widen at her question, and you see a hopeful expression on her face as she waits for your response. Instinctively, you want to say ‘yes’ and close the distance between you two, but you stop yourself, hesistating. 

Natasha sees the conflicting feelings on your face, so she decides to ease the pressure a little with some teasing. 

“You know, according to Tony’s theory, since I’m the one who confessed, a rejection would mean that I would need to quit my job.”

You can't help but laugh at her reasoning before giving her a playful smile, teasing back. 

“Well, we can’t have the Black Widow quitting over a failed confession.”

Natasha places her hands on your waist, pulling you in closer. She tilts her head at you in question.

“I haven’t failed yet. Technically, you never gave me an answer.”

You move your arms to wrap around the back of her neck as you pretend to think about your decision.

“So I still get to keep my job?”

Natasha nods reassuringly. “For however long you can stand working with Tony’s ego.”

You give her a fond smile.

“Then yes, I would love to go out with you.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Tony was throwing you a party to celebrate your first anniversary since working with the Avengers and him, even though you insisted that it wasn’t necessary. He disagrees, saying how nobody has lasted this long, so you relented.

Naturally, you went with Natasha as your date since you have been dating her for several months already. The only problem is that you forgot to update Tony about your new relationship.

When the two of you enter the party, Natasha leans down and whispers next to your ear, “I’ll go get us something to drink.”

With a light touch against your back, she walks away toward the bar. 

You are lost in your thoughts as you admire her walk away, so you are startled when Tony slides in front of you, excitement in his eyes.

“Y/n! Good, I found you.”

You smile at him, used to his frantic energy by now.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, was there something that you needed?”

He waves his hand dismissively at you.

“This party is for you, and you’ve been working with me for a year now. I’ve told you to just call me Tony.” 

You give him an apologetic look before asking him curiously.

“You said you were looking for me?”

Tony claps his hands at the reminder.

“Yes, I want you to meet someone. She’s a nice person, has a great personality, and she works as a pilot.”

You raise your hand to try and stop him. “I already have some—“

“Oh, here she is!”

You give him a tight smile as the woman approaches the two of you. Tony pats you on the back in encouragement, turning to leave.

“Alright, I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

“Wait, Tony—,“ you try to stop him, but he rushes away. Turning back to the woman, you give her a polite smile as she introduces herself.

Meanwhile, Natasha was standing at the bar, waiting for your drinks.

“I am the greatest boss ever,” Tony exclaims, sliding in next to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his words. Deciding to indulge him while she waits, she asks him to explain.

“How’s that?”

“I just found the perfect date for our favorite weapons techie.”

Natasha frowns when she realizes what he said. Turning around to look at where she left you, she sees that you were currently talking with a beautiful woman. 

Her posture relaxes when she reads your body language. You had a polite smile on your face as you listened to the woman, but she could see how tense your body was, and your hand at your side kept fidgeting with your dress. 

“Now I don’t have to worry about her falling for you,” Tony says smugly.

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Natasha smirks as she turns back around to grab the drinks that the bartender just placed in front of her. 

Tony notices the two drinks in her hands and raises his eyebrows at her.

“You have a date?”

“Girlfriend.”

Without explaining further, she heads back toward you. By the time Natasha reaches you, the other woman was already turning to leave, nodding at Natasha in acknowledgment. 

You let out a breath of relief as Natasha comes back to your side. Thankfully, the woman was understanding when you explained the situation to her. 

Natasha hands you your drink as she returns her hand around your waist, pulling you against her. She sighs in disappointment as she watches the woman leave.

“Here I thought I had the chance to be a hero and save you.”

You give her a teasing smile. “Maybe next time.” 

Natasha presses a soft kiss to your lips in response before pulling away.

You tilt your head curiously at her. “What was that for?”

Natasha gives you an affectionate look.

“First, because I love you.” 

Her expression shifts into a smirk.

“Second, is Tony freaking out?”

You look over her shoulders at the bar and see Tony gaping at the two of you, pointing accusingly at Natasha while Pepper holds him back from rushing over.

You turn back to her, giving her an amused look.

“He’s going to lock you out again.”

Natasha just shrugs, unbothered. “He can’t keep me away from you.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively at you. “He also can’t stop you from visiting me in my room during your breaks.”

You push her lightly before bringing her face close for a kiss.

When you accepted this job, you never thought you would end up in a relationship with the Black Widow. Then again you never imagine that she would end up falling for you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, FINALE

Background: The future heir of Hell is on the way! Alastor has his doubts about being a good father and Lucifer is losing his mind.

_ _ _

(Y/N) Morningstar is due any day now!

That dreaded due date was getting closer and closer and honestly, Alastor didn't know how to handle it.

Of course, he was happy when he found out that his beloved was pregnant. From what he knew, sinners couldn't reproduce! But from a brief (while crying) explanation from Lucifer, (Y/N) is extremely fertile and this could continue happening or just be a one time thing.

Honestly, it broke Alastor seeing her miserable. Her swollen hoofs, going days without sleep because of their spawn kicking up a storm, and not to mention the crying. It didn't bother him that she became much needier, as he was happy to give her all the hoof rubs and cravings she desired.

Alastor felt bad because he hears her confide in Charlie, "honestly, I'm not sure I want to do this again. It feels like my body doesn't belong to me."

He's heard that some pregnant women feel that way, but the way her voice broke when she said it.

He'd never touch her again if she asked.

"Need anything, mon cher?" Alastor asked as she waddled to the bathroom.

"No, but thank you," She smiled. He had been so attentive and it made this pregnancy a bit more enjoyable.

(Y/N) hated herself. Not because she hated their child, no, but because she hated how she felt. She hated that she wasn't enjoying her pregnancy like so many other mothers, and hated how she felt like a prisoner in her own body.

But today: she'd be free.

"ALASTOR!"

A scream awoke the half asleep Radio Demon and he instantly appeared by her side, "what happened?! Are you okay?!"

"I think my water broke last nigh-ah! I'm having contractions!"

The baby was coming.

THE FUCKING BABY WAS COMING.

He instantly got them to the hospital, all while waking up the entire hotel. Vaggie shook Charlie awake, Husker threw a bottle at Angel Dust, and Niffty was frantically killing any bug she saw.

"MY BABY! WHERE'S MY LITTLE PUMPKIN?!"

Lucifer was panicking more than Alastor.

"Oh, my sweet pumpkin!" Lucifer ran to her side as she groaned at the contractions, her horns peaking in and out every time pain lashed through her body.

"Dad, it hurts."

"Where are the scrubs?! I need-!"

"Dad, isn't it the father who's supposed to get scrubs?" Charlie questioned nervously.

"But my baby needs me!"

"What I need is everyone to get the fuck out!" (Y/N) screamed, completely overwhelmed by all of it. Charlie dragged their dad out of the room, and Alastor stayed.

"I'm sorry," She began to cry, feeling horrible about yelling at him.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my sweet girl," His radio voice broke momentarily as he held her hand, "all this pain will be over and we can finally hold our child."

"I already feel like such a bad mom," She cried, "I'm supposed to love being pregnant, but I fucking hate it."

His heart ached for his sweet love. She was in constant pain but hated herself for it.

"I'd never lay another hand on you if it meant you'd never feel like this again," He confessed.

"I'll cut off anyone's hands who touch you."

She smiled at that, "I think. . .I think I'm done after this little one. Definitely need to find out if I can stop being so fertile."

But just as things were calming down, her hand tightened his, and another wave of contractions came. It continued like this for an hour, and with a few more pushes, their child was born.

And even though Lucifer tried breaking into the room, he kept away for a little while longer.

"It's a girl?" Alastor asked.

"Yes. Congratulations!"

"Oh, she's so precious," (Y/N) looked at their daughter, now resting in her arms. She had two small deer horns poking out of her soft head, a ruffle of red hair to go along with it.

"I will give you all the demon meat you desire," Alastor felt satisfied when he looked at his daughter, and felt a pang of happiness within him.

"I think I know what her name is, Alastor," she had been snooping around and found a name from his past, which would make her future husband all the more joyful.

"And what's that, my dear?"

"Manon," His smile faltered.

It was his mother's name.

He looked upon his daughter as she handed him over, her eyes opening to see the Radio Demon - her father.

"It's perfect," He smiled.

"Manon Morningstar."

When Alastor looked at her, all his doubts faded. He remembered how his mother doted on him, loving him and always being his number one supporter and just new that he would do the same for her.

"Can we come in?" Charlie asked carefully with Lucifer peaking in.

(Y/N) nodded and in came Vaggie, Charlie and Lucifer. Lucifer held two giant bouquets of roses, setting them on a table.

"Oh, she's adorable!" Charlie grinned.

"Would you like to hold her?" (Y/N) asked, and her sister happily accepted. The small demon wasn't fussy about being in her arms, just staring with curious eyes.

"Vaggie?"

Her eyes widened, "oh? Me? Uh, I mean, I don't know, I've never-"

"You'll be fine," before she could contest any further, Vaggie was holding Manon. Manon babbled at her, spit dribbling from her mouth as her hand reached up and pulled her hair.

"Okay! My turn!" Lucifer snatched his granddaughter away, staring at the baby with a happy-go-lucky smile.

"Oh you're so precious! I think you'll love duck's! In fact, it's your first toy," He squeaked a small rubber duck with wings in her face, and she began to cry.

"No, no, no, no! Please don't hate me! I love you!"

"I think mommy needs some rest, and Manon is hungry," Alastor scooped back his daughter, and Vaggie dragged Lucifer out as he cried over the fact that he is convinced his granddaughter hates him.

"She's perfect," (Y/N) sighed as she begun to feed upon her, and Alastor gave them both a kiss on their foreheads.

"You're perfect."

[aswanlake]

stiles had been missing from school to the point where it was worrying . it’s not like he was a bad student but every since a few months ago he’s been repeating missing classes and sometimes even full school days . him and Scott that is . the pattern got more and more annoying as you couldn’t come up with an explanation as to why the two of them would just disappear , even his father ran to you for answers and you felt helpless as you shrugged . what good were you as a girlfriend if you didn’t even know where he was going ? if you couldn’t even help him ?

that’s what brought you to the McCall house in the middle of the day — you had a spare key , letting yourself in and not even bothering to knock . “ Stiles ? Come on , you better be here ! You’ve missed four days of school back to back , your dad is worried- I’m worried . You’re about to get the truancy officer called ! ” you already checked his house , the school , the park , even Scott’s job and he was nowhere to be seen , so he had to be here . however what stopped you front entering further was Melissa , a bright smile on her face but nervous eyes hiding her truth . “ Hey ! What brings you around ? ”

she asked as if she hadn’t just heard you entire rant about Stiles . this was her house , you had no right to barge in here , gut feeling or not . “ Is Stiles here ? I know this is bad timing , seriously I know but he’s been pretty much missing for a few days and the one day his dad did see him involved some like crazy nightmare and a tree- I wasn’t paying that much attention . I’m just here to bring him home . ” Melissa didn’t know what to say , she hadn’t come up with an excuse yet as to why Stiles may or may not be in the house but the whispers from the living drew your attention . she tried to keep your preoccupied but even that was enough to keep you from forcing yourself into the rather confusing scene .

“ what the fuck . ” Stiles was tied up on the couch with duck tape covering his mouth however even beneath it you could tell he was smiling . his eyes look at you with nothing but adoration , hell as if you hung that damn moon and stars themselves . he couldn’t stop staring , his hands flailing out to reach towards you . you tried to step towards him but were immediately stopped by Scott . his eyes were just as nervous as his mother’s , searching around aimlessly for some type of excuse . “why the fuck is he tied up ? what the hell is going on ?! ”

another rather tall and definitely older man didn’t let you through either , you’d never seen him before but he looked like he could bench press you with ease so you backed off . . . kinda . “ Scott McCall what the actual fuck is going on and I need an answer now ! Why is my boyfriend tied up and looking like he hasn’t slept in fucking days ?! ” Void usually didn’t like people , he didn’t like them being loud but even your screaming was music to his ears . he only had one thought running through his head as you screeched . wife . his wife had returned with him , possessing the body of another to find him again , oh how deeply their love ran . not even centuries could separate them .

“ I know this looks bad , but we can explain- ” Scott threw his hands up half hazardous as if he was afraid you’d throw something at him , smart man . you were definitely about to . “ You better fucking explain ! He looks like death ! ” you felt your voice shake as your concern waved over the room , Stiles was all you had left and being away from him for so long and then seeing him in such a fragile position made you wanna cry . his eyes stared back at yours , weak and helpless as if he wanted out but there was nothing he could do . little did you know Void was playing a fool , he was more powerful than anyone in the room , if he wanted out then he would take it . if only they didn’t drug him .

“ It’s immersive D&D ! ” Lydia cried , hands reaching towards your shoulder to pry you away from Void’s terrifying glare . “ We have a D&D group and we wanted it to be as real as possible so we started acting things out with props and stuff . Stiles is fine ! It’s all just makeup ! But we are sort of in the middle of a campaign so you should come back later once we’re finished ! ” you were so focused on her words that you didn’t even notice that she was practically pushing you out of the house and away from Stiles in every capacity . by the time you reached the threshold of the door , you knew that what she was saying was bullshit but there had to have been a reason for it .

maybe Stiles didn’t want to see anyone , maybe he didn’t want to see you . it filled your mind with anguish and jealousy , how come Lydia got to be there but you didn’t ? you were his actual girlfriend , she was a girl he pinned after for years but never acknowledged him . you felt sick with thoughts of things that had no bases at all but Void knew what you were feeling . he knew and it sickened him . his wife was suffering , she was in pain because of these high school morons that somehow managed to capture him for now . they were a threat , a threat to his marriage , to his love , to their safety . he was going to get out , truly he was and he’s find his wife and make them pay for even letting her shed a tear .

a/n: random , I’m bored and tired so I wrote this. re watched teen wolf and it came to mind because I’ve always loved Void Stiles

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 18

masterpost

“You’re still here.”

Danny hated that he said that.

Of course Bruce was still there if he was sitting at the table, coffee raised halfway to his mouth. Danny didn’t need to state the obvious like that, especially not to someone like Bruce Wayne. Since apparently Bruce Wayne was Batman. But, it was just that… Bruce was still there.

The morning light was drifting through the window, bright compared to the rain of yesterday. Danny had woken up back in the apartment, slipped away from Hood with a soft explanation he was hungry, and there Bruce was. It was a new day and Bruce was still there.

Bruce set his coffee down and smiled. It was a little crooked and slightly uncertain.

It was Danny’s own smile.

“Morning, chum,” Bruce said. His voice was rough with sleep, the letters almost seemed to catch on each other. Clearly Bruce wasn’t a morning person either. “Are they letting you have coffee yet and do you want any?”

Danny stepped fully into the main living space. “Only a cup and not with any sugar. I can have cream though.”

Bruce nodded and stood. “How much cream?”

“Oh, I can get it—” Danny said quickly, jolting forward a step.

“It’s not a problem, Danny. Go ahead and take a seat,” Bruce said with a little wave to the table. He grabbed one of the cups from the drying rack and held it up in question.

Danny pouted for just a moment before he relented and headed for the table. “About a quarter cream, since I can’t have sugar.”

Bruce nodded and made up the coffee. When he came back to the table he brought the plate of muffins Hood had made with him and set it in the middle of the table. Danny waited for Bruce to sit before he pulled the coffee close to him, cradling it for the warmth.

The apartment was silent for a time as they both drank their coffee and Danny started on a muffin. He unwrapped it before turning it upside down and starting to pick at the bottom first. When he noticed Bruce’s curious gaze he ducked his head with a little shrug.

“The top is the best bit, so I save it for last. My p— they… no one cooked much at h—where I grew up.”

“That’s smart,” Bruce said, thankfully ignoring the rest of Danny’s stumbling words. “Jason learned a lot of what he cooks from Alfred, though he’s expanded his flavor combinations since he’s lived on his own.”

“He’s good. It’s been really nice,” Danny said. He hesitated before asking, “Who’s Alfred?”

Bruce smiled fondly. “Officially my butler, but he’s the man who raised me after my parents died.”

“He’s the real head of the house,” Red— Tim said through a yawn as he stumbled into the room. He looked at the table with the two of them and the muffins before he just made some sort of strangled noise and dropped onto the couch that was still made up as a bed.

“Tim is right,” Bruce said, unconcerned by the fact his son seemed asleep again. “Alfred does his best to keep us all in line. I know he’s looking forward to meeting you, once you’re ready to come be at the Manor.”

Danny jolted, a chunk of muffin crushed suddenly between his fingers. “The Manor?”

Bruce set his mug down slowly. “Once you’re ready, of course. There’s no rush for you to move, we all want you to be comfortable first.”

“No, I mean, just… you’d want me there? At your home?”

Bruce’s whole face softened sadly. It was in little ways, but Bruce’s face was one Danny could read easily. It felt almost invasive how much Danny could see in Bruce’s too familiar eyes.

“Danny, I get that… it might take you time to accept it, but I meant it yesterday: I would love to have you in my family. The others were right to keep me away before because you asked to not meet me yet, but if you hadn’t, they would have brought you home that night. You’ve been family since you found us.”

“They found me,” Danny whispered. He was worried if he said much more, if he thought much more about Bruce’s words, that he would start crying again.

“You got to Gotham— you got to where we could find you,” Bruce said, “and that was very, very brave of you.”

Danny sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Okay, so maybe he was crying again.

“What did you do to him, old man?” Hood snapped, voice still heavily with sleep.

Danny shook his head. “N-nothing. He— he wants me to go to the manor.”

The resulting silence gave Danny enough time to get his tears mostly under control, though he still accepted the tissue Hood handed up as he crouched down by Danny’s chair.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want,” Hood said.

Oh he was making a mess of this, of course he was. “No! I do! I just… I just didn’t think I’d get a home again.”

“You’ve got lots of homes now, Dandelion,” Hood said, his words a soft rumble. “You’ve got the Manor and my place and Dick’s place. And I’m pretty sure you could weasel out of Tim access to his place we all pretend he doesn’t have that he goes to when he needs space.”

“Fuck you,” Tim mumbled into the pillow.

Danny clutched desperately at Hood’s sleeve. “Will you come to the Manor? Just… just at first?”

Hood’s whole face softened. “Course, kid. We all still have rooms there. We’ll have to do it like here, where we change around some so we can keep looking after the city, but I’ll still be around lots until you settle.”

“All of my kids are always welcome, whenever they want,” Bruce said in a purposeful sort of way.

Hood gave a little snort. “Yeah… anyways, I’m not letting you just eat muffins. What sort of egg do you want?”

Danny made himself let go of Hood’s sleeve. “Scrambled, please.”

“Timbit?”

“Smfts.”

“Sure. Bruce?”

“Scrambled is good,” Bruce said softly.

---

AN: You al voted so here is the first chunk of the chapter! Lots of little gentle ways Danny being there is helping heal the rest of the family that hopefully you all can see, even if Danny doesn't.

[togenabi]

the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground. 

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident. 

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more. 

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair. 

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child. 

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute. 

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk. 

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to? 

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t. 

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.” 

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room. 

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed. 

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.” 

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head. 

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start. 

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better. 

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically. 

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink. 

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of. 

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him. 

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime. 

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were. 

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative. 

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills? 

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face. 

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know. 

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges. 

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway. 

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.” 

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response. 

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open. 

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age. 

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor. 

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way. 

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet. 

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously. 

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.” 

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—” 

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.” 

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.” 

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?” 

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.” 

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same. 

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone. 

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods. 

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon. 

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?” 

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him. 

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze. 

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail. 

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy. 

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords. 

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again. 

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage. 

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you. 

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around. 

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water. 

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell. 

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now. 

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space. 

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring. 

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here. 

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue. 

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

[scarletttries]

Kiss It Better (Gun Woo Bloodhounds Request)

Pairing: Gun Woo (Bloodhounds) x F!Reader

Rating: Smut (Gender neutral pronouns throughout by AFAB for smut purposes)

Word Count: 4k 💘💘💘💘

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone sending in lovely messages about my Bloodhounds content! Doing all the 'write a kiss' requests for Gun Woo has completely put me back in my Bloodhounds era so I wanted to write a more substantial smut request for everyone who's right there with me :) Enjoy and let me know if you want more!

Kiss It Better

It wasn't so much a knock at the door that drove you to your feet, as much as it was one loud bang. Like someone had slumped most of their weight against the door, and wasn't going to shift until you let them in. There was only one man who so routinely showed up to your little apartment that you barely had to peek through the peephole to confirm your suspicions.

"Gun Woo!"

You answered warmly, unlatching the door and subconsciously swinging it wide enough for him to step inside even as you spoke at its threshold. You could see a bag in each of his hands, the reason he had had such trouble knocking, and a fresh pattern of bruises down his muscular arms. You frowned as your gaze followed the purple marks along his arms and up to his jaw, which immediately relaxed into a smile as your eyes met his.

"Good evening, I came to drop off your pay from Mr Oh, and my mother insisted I bring you some of her cooking in case you aren't eating well." Gun Woo bowed his head as he finished the explanation, extending both arms out towards you slowly. Your fingertips brushed over his as you took each bag from his hands, his calloused boxers' knuckles grazing against you with the slightest of sparks.

"Thank you Gun Woo, and please thank your mother for me." You replied warmly, wishing you could think of something else to say to keep him grinning at you a moment longer. As his arms drew back towards his sides you saw him flinch slightly, his eyes creasing shut for just a moment, the slightest wince flashing across his face. "Gun Woo, are you hurt?" He looked genuinely moved by your worry, quickly shaking his head in reassurance as he sighed out,

"I'm not hurt, don't worry. I just ache from training today, that's all." You had never seen the statuesque man show an ounce of discomfort, pushing through gruelling pain and conditions whenever the situation called for it, so you couldn't help but want to tend to him in the rare moment of vulnerability.

"Please will you come in? I want to help, I know what to do?" You knew Gun Woo wouldn't accept help unless you pleaded with him to, coaxing him through the door with a wave of your hand and giving him your hopeful expression. He seemed to weigh up your offer for a second, wincing in pain again as he moved to rub the back of his neck in thought and deciding the slight imposition would be worth it for not only his aching muscles, but his aching heart. The truth was Gun Woo was always volunteering to bring things to you, or finding reasons to stop by your little place. Seeing you was the highlight of his week every single week, your warm smile and welcoming home stirring up a longing inside him that he could barely contain as he took a few tentative steps through the door and cautiously removed his shoes.

He watched, full of curiosity, as you pulled one of the cushions off your couch and placed it carefully on the floor right in front of it.

"Sit. Please." You commanded sweetly, watching colour flush into Gun Woo's cheeks at being told what to do, the boxer hurrying towards you and settling cross-legged on the pillow, staring up at you in wonder. "You need to face the other way." You had to fight back a chuckle at his slight frown as he turned away from you, leaving you space to settle yourself on the sofa behind him, your legs framing his broad shoulders so you could shift yourself as close to his back as possible. "Now just relax." You sighed out softly as you lightly placed a hand on each of his shoulders, feeling him tense up immediately just as you expected. You let your hands sit motionless for a few seconds as you felt Gun Woo fight his every instinct to stay alert and tightly wound, his shoulders feeling heavy even under your light touch. But he didn't move away, or say anything to indicate you should stop, so you cautiously took it a little bit further. Using your thumbs to apply the slightest pressure you dragged your hands over his shoulders and down his back, framing his spine with your touch and being rewarded by hearing Gun Woo let out a sigh that reverberated through his whole being. You repeated the sweeping motion, adding a little more force with your fingertips this time, feeling the dense muscles slightly relax under your touch, his breath slowly easing out again as you moved. Your thumbs grazed over the back of his neck as they followed the shape of him, the man between your legs letting out a soft breathy moan at the contact that had his eyes darting open and his back bolting upright.

"You know you don't have to do this." He mumbled softly, already sounding disappointed by the thought you might take him up on the offer of stopping.

"I know Woo, but I want to. Does it feel nice?" Between the casual pet name and your fingers still brushing over his neck, Gun Woo's head was swimming. Having your hands rubbing over him felt a lot better than nice, every nerve in his body simultaneously setting alight and feeling more soothed than they had in years. He was worried if he tried to respond his voice would betray just how good you felt, so instead he settled for nodding his head and letting you continue your efforts.

Satisfied he was happy with his situation, you added a little more pressure, sweeping your hands over the full width of his shoulders, making sure to add soft circles with your thumbs as your fingers kneaded into his aching flesh. You had never touched someone so massive or so muscular, the feel of his every bulging muscle tangible even through his t-shirt, your fingers spread wide to try and soothe as much of him as possible. You heard his gentle sighs slip occasionally into soft moans as he settled into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut and lips falling open, gently parted to let out every sweet noise.

It wasn't only Gun Woo the massage was having an effect on, a tension forming inside you that made you wish you could squeeze your legs together instead of keeping your knees either side of his arms. He looked so gorgeous, finally relaxed for the first time you could remember, face at ease, his body swaying back towards you as if chasing your every touch. You couldn't imagine him letting himself be this close to anyone else, your heartbeat picking up as you let your little finger brush against the soft skin of his biceps as your hands trailed over his arms.

Gun Woo was as close to heaven as he could ever remember being, a warmth stirring in his gut he couldn't quite place, each little noise slipping through his lips without him being able to stop it. Even with his eyes closed all he could see was you, hardly able to believe this was really happening. He couldn't help but think how good your touch would feel on every part of him, how good it would feel to take your place and rub his strong hands all over you for as long as you'd let him.

You noticed just how much Gun Woo was enjoying your touch before he did, his light coloured sweatpants doing very little to obscure the substantial bulge growing between his legs. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, fighting back a whine at the thought of all of that fitting inside you, your core aching at the just the thought of climbing on top of him. Your caressing hands slowed enough for Gun Woo to come back to reality and realise what part of him had taken over throbbing the most now his muscles were relaxed. He looked up at you with wide eyes, infinitely apologetic and completely lost for words. He wished he was as charming as Woo Jin, that he could pass it off as a compliment and not make a big deal out of it. He was sure you'd like him more if he was better with his words. Luckily, you were used to how selectively he chose to speak, and had a much better response than he ever could have come up with,

"I can help with too, if you want Woo." The affectionate shortening of his name had his pulse quickening again, the slight smirk on your otherwise kind face drawing him in as you patted the sofa beside you. He used his arms to pull himself up onto the seat next to you, his muscles no longer crying out with so much else taking up his attention. He watched wide eyed as you placed one hand lightly over his, looking at him with pure sincerity, "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but - "

"I want to." He cut you off before he could overthink it, the words as terrifying as they were natural as they spilled from his lips, "I want to with you I mean. I just - I haven't before. I'm not sure what to do." He looked so bashful as he squeezed your hand hopefully, clinging to you in the hopes you wouldn't leave now that you knew this was all new to him. It was almost too endearing, this greek god of a man looking up at you with pleading eyes and such obvious desire growing between his thighs, your heart fluttering as you smiled and moved to straddle his lap. His thighs felt so warm and firm under yours, his chest grazing against yours with every heaving breath he took, hands hovering just beside you as if unable to cross some invisible boundary without your permission.

"You can touch me Gun Woo." You spoke softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to read how much of the expression on his face was fear and how much was lust. "Can I kiss you?"

He nodded quickly, head darting forwards to find your lips, not wanting to waste a single precious second of what was turning into the happiest night of his life. He was timid at first, each gentle peck leading to a slightly longer one, a little more pressure added each time as he got a taste for you. As one of his hands settled on the small of your back you took it a step further, scraping your nails over the back of his neck and feeling him moan into your kiss. With his lips parted your traced your tongue over his, feeling him tentatively respond by slipping his tongue between your lips, sending butterflies fluttering through your core. Thrilled by the sensation of exploring your kiss, he brought his free hand to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly so he could be slightly more forceful, hungrily capturing your lips again and again like they might sustain him the rest of his life. His arm wrapped more tightly over your waist, pulling your hips closer to his and dragging your centre over his aching bulge. A deep groan erupted from his lips at the sensation, his head rolling back as you repeated the motion, grinding down against him with more pressure so you could feel him twitch in response. A strangled moan of your name escaped his lips and he lifted his head to watch you again, lips swollen from your kiss and eyes desperately pleading with you to use him however you liked.

You held the edge of his t-shirt and lifted it slightly, Gun Woo quickly taking the hint and tugging it over his head, flinging it aside in one smooth motion. You let your hands run down his chest, feeling his muscles flex beneath your touch, the sight of him threatening to take your quivering breath away. You rolled your hips again, this time bringing your lips to his neck, kissing and sucking as he let out needy whimpers each time your lips moved to a new spot. You tried adding a little pressure with your teeth, leaving a purple mark in the middle of chest that had him squirming in his seat. As your tongue traced over his nipple you could feel his thighs start to shake underneath you, the usually stoic man coming completely undone before you'd even gotten him fully undressed. Worried about where his body was heading, Gun Woo firmly gripped your hips, stopping your addictive movements and looking at you very seriously as he spoke,

"Can I touch you? Will you show me how?" He tripped over the words, building excitement and nerves getting the better of him as you nodded and planted another kiss squarely on his chest before climbing off his lap. You felt strangely exposed as you pulled your shorts down and let them fall to your feet, not because you thought Gun Woo was going to judge you, but because it made you realise just how wet you were from grinding against him. Your folds were glistening in the night air as you tugged your shirt over your head and let Gun Woo take in the full sight of you. His jaw hung slack as he drank in every inch of you, his lips trembling slightly as you straddled his hips again. This time the feel of his sweatpants against your sensitive pussy sent a shiver through your spine, Gun Woo watching every movement intently as he brought his hands to settle on your thighs. Waiting for your nod of encouragement, he let one hand drift higher, callous fingers tracing shapes on your inner thigh that had biting your lip in anticipation. Slowly he drew closer to your centre, one finger finally making contact with your glistening lips and slipping between them. From the slight smile on his face you thought he must have known what it meant that you were so wet already, his finger easily slipping inside you before withdrawing and tracing the outline of your folds. His every movement so was slow and curious, it was like blissful torture, each teasing moment of contact only building the anticipation fluttering inside you as he watched your face curiously for guidance. When his finger circled over your clit, you let out a needy moan, back arching slightly in a way that had your chest leaning towards him. He repeated the motion, pleased to hear the same noise slip from your lips, your chest bouncing slightly in place as your body jolted from the pleasure. He positioned his thumb over the sensitive spot, finding a steady rhythm of firm circles as two of his fingers slipped inside you.

"Right there Gun Woo!" You whined out as you felt the undeniable climb of the pressure inside you, wondering if there was anything this boy wasn't a natural at. Spurred on by hearing the way you said his name, Gun Woo pushed his fingers slightly deeper inside you massaging you walls and feeling the way your thighs started to shake in response, your pleas of encouragement dissolving quickly into panting moans. Eyes glued to the way your chest gently bounced in front of him, he latched his mouth onto one of your breasts, tongue flicking over one nipple and his free hand moved to knead and squeeze the other. It was so much delicious sensation all at once, every inch of your body sparkling with excitement as you felt the heat inside you reach its precipice, the steady rhythm of his fingers bringing you over the edge in a powerful wave of bliss that had you moaning out his name again and again. He could feel the clench of your walls around his fingers, not daring to stop or change his movements as you rode out of your pleasure, his hungry lips exploring your chest and dragging out your ecstacy, straight into another build up with no sign of slowing.

Gun Woo wished he could do this forever, feeling the reaction of your body to his touch and watching the effect he could have on you. He wanted to train at it like he did with boxing, until he was the best he could be, putting in as many hours as it took to make you feel as incredible as he felt right now. It was getting overwhelming riding his fingers as he pawed your chest, the pressure threatening to build inside you again at an almost intimidating pace.

"Woo," You whined out, the pet name only encouraging him to slip a third finger inside you and pump his wrist a little quicker, your head swimming as you tried to remember why you were going to interrupt him. Your hips rocked against his palm, grazing over his substantial bulge and pulling you back to your initial desperate need to feel him. "Gun Woo." You put your hand on his wrist and he paused his movements and withdrew his hand, frowning as needy whine spilled out of you as your building pleasure eased. "I want to feel you now." You watched the gears turn in his mind as he considered your words, at the same time slowly bringing his glistening fingers up to his lips and tentatively sucking one in a motion that almost finished you off entirely. Pleased with his action he slipped another finger between his lips, before replying, "Can I taste you more?"

You were sure you could feel yourself dripping from the question alone, thanking whatever fate had conspired to bring him to your home tonight and praying it wouldn't be the last time.

"We can try that another time." His face lit up at the suggestion of this happening again, your heart hammering at the thought of Gun Woo becoming even more of a regular visitor to your place. "But right now I want to feel you inside me." You ran your palm over the length of the outline threatening to burst through his pants, watching him squirm in response before you added, "If that's what you want."

Once again lost for words Gun Woo effortlessly lifted you from his lap and placed you back on the couch, pulling down his sweatpants which now had a wet patch glistening over his crotch, and stepping out of them to reveal himself to you. He looked almost self-conscious as you stared at his impressive length, core pulsing at the thought of feeling all of him inside you. Without thinking you licked your lips, giving Gun Woo just enough confidence to move closer, climbing over you until your back met the couch cushions, one arm framing your face as the other ran the leaking tip of his cock over your folds. He waited for you to nod again, leaning down to kiss you greedily before starting to push slightly inside you. You watched his face contort as he stopped almost immediately, eyes clenched shut, muscles tensing above you.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, relieved when he quickly nodded, grunting out through an almost pained expression.

"You just feel so good. So soft and warm and perfect. And I -" He had to stop himself before he got carried away, and you couldn't help but feel even more turned on at how hard he was having to try not to cum the moment he entered you. You placed a cluster of soft kisses on his cheek, but otherwise stayed motionless until after a few moments he started to drive his hips forwards again. You knew it would feel different being with such a big man, but the way he filled you so completely, his body completely covering yours, it was incredible. Every sense was captivated by him form, his body engulfing yours as he drew closer. When he finally bottomed out inside you, he quickly withdrew, groaning out loud at the sensation as he pulled out of you, only to slam his hips against yours again. He had the control and strength of an athlete in his prime, every motion smooth and powerful and leaving you gasping for breath at the sheer intensity of it. Being with him was all consuming, every thought and breath crying out 'Gun Woo'. His lips couldn't get enough of yours, swallowing every whine and moan his thrusts drew from you, each noise just spurring him on to give you everything he had.

You could feel him straining for control as his snaked a hand over your hip to find your sensitive button again, strumming quick brushes over your clit in time with his hips, adding yet more overwhelming sensation. Your mind was crying out for him as his scent flooded your senses, and every inch of your skin was pressed against his, so wrapped up in his strong arms and yet feeling completely in control as his pleading eyes met yours.

"I'm -" He choked out in a desperate beg, your name quickly following it as his lips crashed down on yours. As his thighs started to clench you could feel the coil inside you start to quickly tighten again, the second release you were so close to reaching on his fingers coming fast and threatening to be even more overwhelming than the first. You tried to let him know how close you were, but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked into his desperate eyes, the tension inside you snapped and all you could do was cling to him as your whole body shook with the pleasurable relief. The feeling of your warm, wet walls squeezing his throbbing dick was by far the best thing Gun Woo had ever felt as he spilled inside you, hammering his hips into you again and again. Each shift of his hips only dragged more pleasure out inside of you, tipping him over the edge again as a fresh wave of bliss seemed to spill out of him, cumming more than he ever had when left alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that had been so frequently of you, and yet they hadn't even begun to do justice to the incredible ecstasy he felt as he all but collapsed on top of you, completely spent and even more in love than when he arrived.

You lifted one hand to brush the hair out of Gun Woo's face, heart melting at the gentle smile that had replaced his frantic look of desperation. He leant down to kiss you again, more sweetly this time, lust giving way to love, his affections clear as you leant up and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. He burst into a giggle at the gesture, using his leveraged position above you to pepper your face with kisses, loyally returning to your lips before too long. He was sure he would have had the best night ever even if you just kissed him tonight.

"You are amazing. Was I okay?" He breathed out in a warm laugh, unsure if the euphoria of the situation was typical of the afterglow, or if this felt as special to you as it did to him.

"You're amazing too, Gun Woo." You stroked his face in reassurance, hoping his first time with you wouldn't be the last. "Do your aches feel better now?" You teased, running your hand down the length of his spine and watching him nod fiercely, grin spread from cheek to cheek.

"I promise, I've never felt better."

***

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